


Wands and Prejudice

by CocoPotterEverdeenWinchesterBaggins



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst and Romance, Awkward Romance, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Boyfriends, Domestic Fluff, Drama & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Build Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25200874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CocoPotterEverdeenWinchesterBaggins/pseuds/CocoPotterEverdeenWinchesterBaggins
Summary: Draco Malfoy has his life together, he has a job at Olivanders, a cat named Mary Antoinette, a flat in Diagon Alley and sometimes he even has the motivation to talk to people, all in all he is quite satisfied with how he turned out.All this changes when a thief disturbs the quiet night and breaks into Olivanders and threatens Dracos life. And who best to come and take over the investigation than his old nemesis Harry Potter. When a second attempt at Dracos life fails only by chance it is Potter who dutifully takes over a 24 hour security position to protect the disgruntled blonde.It doesn’t take too long until secrets are shared, animosities buried and emotions laid bare.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

This morning had started just like any other. He had woken up at precisely 6:45 am, he had taken a shower for 13 minutes and afterwards spent 8 minutes trying (and failing) to detangle and flatten his blond curls, had brewed himself a strong black tea with milk (no sugar) and read the morning newspaper until exactly 7: 34 am at which point he had rolled the newspaper neatly into a tube, squeezed it into his newspaper-holding-barrel (an invention of his own design), fed his cat (yes he had been lonely after prison, there was nothing unusual about having a pet, thank you very much), put on his coat and climbed down the three wonky staircases to step out onto Diagon Alley at exactly 7:45 am. 

The morning was mild and busy, fruit sellers shouting out prices and arguing loudly when someone disagreed with said prices, businessmen in suits and polished robes hurrying along with bags from a bakery in one and a newspaper in the other hand chewing passionately on the contents of the first (unless it was just one of those days and they took a hearty bite off todays headline), there were children not wanting to go to kindergarten, screaming and begging their parents to take them to work instead and parents equally devastated to do exactly that. It was awake and loud and so alive.

The walk from Draco’s apartment to Ollivander’s store took seven minutes and left him with exactly enough time to buy himself a croissant with apricot jam at Marrilow’s Magic Bakery (he wasn’t quite sure where the magic came to play) for his breakfast and heard the bell on Ollivander’s Store entry jingle at exactly 8 am at which point he would be giddy and anxious to start his day.

And up to that point everything had happened exactly as it was supposed to, Maggie had had the morning shift at the bakery and like every such day (it was Wednesdays through Fridays and the occasional Sunday) she flirted with Draco and because she was pretty and nice to him Draco flirted back, today she had even given him an extra éclair with his croissant free of charge, but not even that had tipped Draco off about this day being a peculiar one.

No he first noticed something was off as he pushed open the door to the workshop behind Garrick’s storefront and saw him sitting there, feet restlessly jumping up and down, both knees incrusted with lumps of fabric and eyes staring into his empty mug, murmuring at his hands with anxious excitement. 

That struck Draco as odd. And that was to say something since almost everything Garrick Olivander did, said or touched during a regular workday could be considered odd to some degree and Draco had hence gotten accustomed to the more ordinary peculiarities his teacher slash employer exhibited. Just three days ago Ollivander had spent a good twenty five minutes sniffing one single lock of hair on an old man’s otherwise remarkably bald head, he had seemed highly concentrated and full of intent but once he let go of the lock he cleared his throat and continued measuring his subject as if he had not just spent the last half hour practically shredding his clients personal bubble. Draco had not thought twice of it.

But this was odd for two very rational reasons: the first and probably more important one was that Garrick hated mornings, one of the few things he hated more than mornings were mornings that were somehow worse than others (he had never explained exactly how he determined which would be which) and the only thing he hated more than that were the mornings he felt the arthritis in his knees flare up. And today was one of the latter. 

Draco had experienced three of those mornings so far and he had spent weeks getting over each of them, not to mention the cleaning up he had to do every time Garrick decided (on those days it was about four or five times) that all of this wasn’t worth it anymore and he should just go in a home for old people to play Bridge and decompose. Those comments were heavily underlined by an angry throw of boxes and one or the other rather vicious jinx at their shop window. Draco would spend those days hiding himself and any unlucky customer who had wandered in behind thick doors and a Protego so strong it made the air flutter with magic.

Today, he had genially deduced from the fabrics around Ollivander’s knees he wore on those occasions, every time drenched in a homemade concoction of vinegar, white rum and what smelled like a long expired splash of Anti Ailment Elixir, was one of those days. What didn’t fit the picture was the absence of both the imminent destruction and the harsh stench of burnt liquor bottles (apparently Ollivander had forgotten to drench his compress today) that normally tipped Draco off the second he walked into the shop on these glim occasions.

That meant it was not only morning, it was also a worse morning and one with flared up knees on top of it, but that wasn’t the end of Garrick’s suffering, his hurting knees were now also probably baking under a thick layer of otherwise useless cloth which had to worsen the pain and keep Ollivander painfully sober through the lack of white rum fog that normally filled the air. Why then was his employer so very excited?

The second thing that tipped him off was the mug. Not that it was empty, Garrick seldom had the presence of mind to both take AND fill his tea cups, no what struck him as odd about that was the particular one he had chosen. Garrick, as most old men (and Draco) was a creature of habit and every morning when he chose his empty mug for the day and pretended it to be a big adventure he chose the same damn mug. It had driven Draco up the walls at first. The building suspense as Garrick danced around his array of porcelain, eager to chose the perfect one, The One for the day and the complete let down once he chose the exact same damn mug again. 

Draco had since come mostly to terms with it and had only allowed himself the small pleasure of calling it the damn mug every time he thought of it, just to keep some perspective. The damn mug was hideous and on top of being hideous it was also strangely boring, a combination of attributes Draco couldn’t condone. It was huge (so Garrick could fill more nothing into it presumably) and greenish-yellow and there was a goat in the front (or was it the back, who knew, it was just a damn mug) telling whomever was unfortunate enough to be presented with it that “Today is a goat day”. 

The damn mug had haunted Draco’s dreams, he would have recognised it by only looking at a burnt piece of that wonky left ear of that stupid goat. So it was rather unusual that he walked into the workshop and there the old man was, no grudge on his face, stainless and practically odour free knee compress and with a regular sized, simple grey mug in his hands telling nobody what kind of day it would be.

All in all Draco was shell-shocked.

“Garrick?”, Draco asked in a tone as quiet as can be, no use setting off the bomb that was surely brewing inside the man somewhere: “Are you alright?”.

Garrick looked up from his hands, a wonky smile wrinkling the skin of his face into an almost unrecognisable sheet of damp parchment: “Stellar, boy”, he said and hopped on his feet.

Draco had also gotten used to that (looking at it like that he thought him rather tolerant now, he had gotten used to an almost ungodly array of things) and only rolled his eyes half way. 

Boy was his new name, had there been name cards for Garrick’s employees Draco would have put all his money, his cat, his rather modest remainders of dignity and best leather loafers on his reading Boy, nothing more, nothing less. He had forgiven the old man for that not because he felt deep down that Garrick knew his actual name (Draco was rather certain he didn’t) but because of one instant three weeks into his studies. It had been the first of those days and Garrick had howled and wailed and whined himself tired and when Draco had finished cleaning up the shop at about half past one in the morning he had put the old man into bed and in a sleep- and pain-filled moment Garrick had confessed to him the wish for a son, a boy of his own, that he had said. 

And so Draco had stopped correcting and reminding and had accepted Boy and deep down he felt a prickle of fondness toward the man every time he heard it (very deep down, it was still all kinds of insulting).

“We have a big day coming”, Garrick exclaimed heavily: “A big, big day”, he resumed staring into his mug.

“Right”, Draco said and nodded: “Remind me again of how exactly this day is going to be big?”.

“Don’t be daft”, Garrick barked either at Draco or the mug, it was impossible to know for certain and limped out of the workshop.

So Draco prepared for a big day. He made tea in a hurry, simultaneously chewing down his rather spectacular tasting croissant and therefore not giving it nearly as much attention as it deserved, sorted through their new arrivals in record time and cleaned up the window to be ready for when this day decided to make a turn for the big.

Then he waited. For something. Anything. But the hours ticked by and the store stayed empty and Garrick became more and more grumpy with every obnoxiously loud click on the clock telling them another eventless minute had passed by.

Garrick had departed into his study to do whatever Garrick did when he was in his study, when the door opened with the beautiful sound of a ringing bell announcing something to do, finally.

Draco shot up from his chair behind the table and looked straight into the shocked green eyes of Harry Potter.

“Malfoy”, Potter said, too surprised to bring an acceptable level of animosity into his voice.

“Potter”, Draco said equally as dumbfounded.

They stared at each other for a long time. Potter had gotten recognisably taller since (the trial) the last time he’d seen him and Draco didn’t know how that was possible, he had stopped growing when he was 16, 18 the least and here Potter was in his mid twenties and apparently still busy with becoming an even more impressive figure than he already was. 

And impressive he was unfortunately. Draco was relieved to see he still remained the taller of them both, he would not have survived the indignity of having to look up to Potters face as if seeing the messiah in the flesh. He was sure a lot of people did that on a daily basis anyhow, he needn’t be one of those. 

No it was way more comfortable – and familiar – to see Potter as he always had, down the sleek curve of his narrow if a bit pointy nose and although the angle was a bit sharper than he remembered (not that he really remembered at all, Harry Potter never crossed his mind, no Sir) there was still the familiar look of black curls expertly shaped into the form of an exploded birds nest, freckly cheeks (now slightly pink) and thin round glasses slowly but steadily sliding down the bridge of Potters nose until he would reach for them with his index finger and push them up to where they belonged.

Potter swallowed and Draco saw his Adam’s apple hop up and down anxiously.

“Wand?”, Potter coughed out the question so suddenly it startled Draco into a little unfashionable jerk. His eyes darted back to Potters face (they might have wandered a bit – Potter was definitely going to the gym) and to his horror he felt heat spread over his chest and up his throat.

He shook his head slightly and put on a sufficiently disapproving look: “It’s a piece of wood with different supernatural cores to channel someone’s magical abilities”, he explained: “Or were you asking if we had any? Because it should be quite apparent that, indeed, we do have wands”, he signed for the tightly packed boxes covering every wall of the store with a flat hand.

Potter furrowed his brows: “I know that”, he said.

“Then I’m unsure of what question exactly remains to be answered?”, Draco asked.

Potter blinked at him: “I didn’t ask a question”.

“Yes you did”, Draco insisted: “Be it in a rather ineloquent fashion”.

Potter cleared his throat and breathed in deeply: “Hello”, he said then, with a somewhat wonky smile.

Draco was by now greatly concerned about Potters mental state: “I’ve been here the whole time”, he said and shifted his head slightly to look into Potters eyes more directly: “Did you just notice me now?”.

Those in return rolled heavenwards: “No, I didn’t”, he said exasperatedly: “I was starting again”, he made a rolling motion with his hands: “So”, he waited expectantly.

Draco stiffened. Now this was ridiculous.

“Hello”, he grumbled unenthusiastically: “How may I help you?”.

Potter beamed at him: “I’m glad you asked, for I am in need of a new wand”.

“A wand”, Draco repeated dumbfounded.

“Yes”, Potter smiled cheekily: “It’s a piece of wood with different supernatural cores to channel someone’s magical abilities”, he explained and it made Draco’s toes curl up. He knew that.

“Well I’ll have to check if we have any”, he said to his own surprise and – worse of all – a small grin curling his lips.

“Oh it should be quite apparent that, indeed, you do have wands”, Potter grinned and signed for the boxes.

What was happening here? This was all sorts of peculiar. Was he bantering? Just having a playful bicker with Harry Potter.

By now Draco was greatly concerned about his own mental state.

He straightened his shoulders: “Right”, he said then but was rudely interrupted by Garrick wandering in with gloves on both his hands carrying a steaming hot cup of tea.

“Mister Potter”, he exclaimed beaming at his tea: “I was wondering when you’d show up”.

Potter smiled at that and reached out to shake the old mans gloved hands.

“Well here I am”, he said: “I’ve come for a wand”.

Draco rolled his eyes.

“That he did”, he said: “I was just about to summon you, Garrick”.

“Oh no don’t do that boy”, the old man exclaimed.

“I’m not going to”, Draco said slowly, “Since you are already here if you haven’t noticed”.

“He’s such a smartass, this one”, he said to Potter who had the audacity to laugh and nod.

“Has been since I knew him”.

“Right”, Draco repeated: “I’m going to make you some tea”, Garrick had – of course – only put boiling water into his cup: “And let you get on with it”.

“No you won’t”, Garrick said and took a generous sip from his mug: “You’re going to tend to our customer”, he slurped another sip and looked delighted by the flavour: “And I am going to go to my study and brood a bit”.

Garrick turned around and left.

Potter looked equal parts amused and concerned.

“He’s special”, Draco explained and Potter nodded: “So for your wand”, he trailed on.

“Right”, Potter said and nodded: “Mine broke this morning and I can’t really work without one so I need a new one as soon as possible”.

Draco nodded and turned around. What could be a good fit for the chosen one? He ran through his mental catalogue of wands and was tempted to just start with the ugliest one, a stubby little thing with a greenish shade of wood and a little loop at the end but he was too much of a perfectionist for that. Damn him.

“Well let’s see”, he started, more to himself than to Potter at that point: “Your first wand was holly and phoenix feather, but that might have been only because The Dark Lords was as well”, he rambled on looking at the etiquettes on the boxes: “You’re certainly powerful, so maybe dragon heart string could fit, but you’re also loyal which dragon heart string isn’t so that might be a problem”, he went to the next rack: “Thestral hair could work, since you’ve been known to be quite angsty at times and they value bravery but I’d rather”, he stopped and turned towards Potter, face light up with certainty: “I got it”, he exclaimed.

Potter had a look of bewildered fascination on his face which Draco found both infuriating and weirdly endearing. No, not endearing, amusing, yes he meant amusing.  
He turned around abruptly and stalked down one of the many narrow corridors in search of that wand.

It was exactly where he had put it, Draco had revolutionised Ollivander’s sorting technique ages ago and was still sufficiently proud of his work.

He took the dusty box in his hands and went back towards the light of the storefront.

“It’s Blackthorn, very sturdy, with a core of both Thestral hair and Horned Serpent Horn, it’s perfect”, he outright beamed when he reached the desk again: “It’s very loyal to it’s master, especially to a parsle mouth, maybe a bit temperamental at times but powerful and robust and perfect for defensive spells”, he breathed a little heavier as he pulled the lid from the box and showed the wand to Potter.

“You think I’m powerful?”, Potter asked with a smug grin on his face.

Draco looked up and blinked.

“What?”, he asked, completely taken aback.

“And loyal”, the corners of Potters mouth twitched: “You said I’m loyal”.

“I can’t believe that’s what stuck with you”, Draco said and cursed himself for always thinking out loud at work.

“And brave”, Potter was outright beaming: “I’m quite sure you called me brave as well”.

“I see”, Draco closed the lid of the box again. “On further consideration, give me a moment to get the one with the Troll whiskers, it might be suited better for you”.

Potter barked a laugh: “No”, he pleaded: “Please no troll whiskers”.

“They’re very underrated”, Draco explained while hiding the chosen wand in the highest part of the shelf he could reach: “It serves its master quite nicely if said master is, what do they call it – a knob head?”, he looked down at Potter: “And even better if he is also entitled, moody, vastly overrated and full of himself.”

“Ouch”, Potter said, still smiling for some reason, Malfoy was insulting him, Potter was supposed to be angry now: “Message received, you think me a horrendous person, now let me try that wand”.

Draco looked at him for a second then generously retrieved the wand and put the open box on top of the table again.

Potter gave him a questioning look so he nodded lightly and waited.

It happened as soon as Potters fingertips brushed the dark wood. Golden sparks erupted out the wands tip and flew around the room like a thousand bright stars. Little spots of golden and red light danced over every surface (Potters face) and made it look like a fire was raging inside the store. The air was electric, crackling and sizzling with magic and Draco felt the hair on his arms stand up.

Potter smiled at him and put the wand back into its box: “Well, that’s settled then”, he said and Draco saw the goose bumps on the other man’s arms.

He nodded, very pleased with himself.

“That’ll be 10 Galleons”, he said and put the box into a bag: “Are you a member of our Discount Club?”, he asked and Potter made a grimace.

“I didn’t know you had a club”.

“We have to go with the times”, Draco said and handed him a small punching card: “Your tenth wand is free”, he explained.

Potter raised an eyebrow with clinical precision: “Well that will come in handy”.

“Garrick is the creative genius behind it.”, Draco explained and put a small wand caring kit into the bag.

“I see”, Potter grinned but still pocketed the card: “Thank you very much”, he handed over the money: “I will recommend you to my friends”.

“Please don’t”, Draco handed over the bag: “We only have a limited stock of Troll Whisker Cores”.

Potter chuckled and turned towards the door: “Sure, sure, but you still think I’m brave”, he said over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

“Garrick”, Draco shouted, eyes still fixed on Potters back bobbing away through the crowd of people: “Do you reckon this day is getting any bigger yet? Because in that case I need to take a break”.

Garrick pranced into the room and coughed up a cloud of dust: “That was very good”, he said completely ignoring Draco’s question.

Draco huffed: “Well I wouldn’t say that, granted we were friendly and got over the initial awkwardness but I’m not sure if he particularly likes me still”.

“I was talking about your precise wand choice, boy”, Garrick replied dryly.

Draco blinked.

“Of course”, he hurried: “Very good”, he cleared his throat: “Thank you”.

Garrick rolled his eyes.

Draco coughed.

The day, it turned out wasn’t about to get any bigger, not that Draco was complaining, he had had his proper share of excitement for a day and was not prepared to cater to any more surprises just casually strolling into the shop like Potter had.

And he had, strolled in casually that was. So damn casually. With a light sway of hips and bringing in the buzz from the Alley outside so god damn casual and alive. It was quite astonishing (and reassuring) to see Potter being so, well, casual. 

Draco had suspected for the longest time that Potter would never become a semi-productive member of society, he had imagined him more like all the muggle child stars (he had done some research), the ones that reach their peak with puberty and become drug addicts with greasy hair and pimples. On further consideration, greasy hair might be Potters best option regarding his look, maybe the oils on his scalp could tame that mess he called a hairstyle. 

A mental picture of Potter with mud on his head popped into his mind. Still better. 

When Draco opened the door to his apartment and slipped out of his leather slippers (his cat was lovingly chewing his ankle) he was completely done with this day. He had cleaned the store and reorganised and made tea and thought about mud on Potters head and now he was tired. Drained. Done.

All in all he had thought about Potter quite a bit, not only about his head either. 

Thinking about it he had been rather preoccupied with Potters mouth. What he meant by that of course were Potters words (not his lips, very much not his lips). 

Potter had looked good, so grown up but still there was this mischievous look in his eyes, almost childlike. Draco smiled a little as he put on the kettle. He remembered that look from school, of course he had never been the recipient of such a look, no Potter had always been very determined to fix him with the scowliest of scowls or the frowniest of frowns, but when with his friends Potter had always brought out this look. 

Malfoy had always wondered what it might have felt like to be looked at like that, he had imagined it quite satisfying, so full of promise and adventure. And even though he hadn’t liked Potter that much (no he hadn’t) he had been discouraged when the glint in his eyes slowly started to fade in those last years at Hogwarts, no longer had he wished to be the one receiving the stare, that would have been too much to ask, no he would have been quite satisfied just seeing it on him again. Maybe when talking to that know it all Granger or the Weasel, or his little girlfriend. What might have happened to her? Draco wondered and took a sip of tea, were they still together? Surely not, it had been a school romance, two teens falling in love for the first time, all messy and sloppy and oh so obvious, even though Potter had always tried to hide his affection. 

It had been pathetic (and a bit cute) how little Potter had been able to conceal his interest, not that Draco had been particularly watching him, no no, everyone, he was sure, had been able to tell, even the Weasel and as far as Draco was concerned that meant a lot. No surely they weren’t together anymore, even though he took Potter for the One-and-Only love of my life kind of guy, it was too obvious a pairing if there ever had been one. They had been too perfect for each other, no Potter needed someone different, someone to disagree with him, maybe even fight a little, someone who didn’t melt at his feet the moment they saw him. 

Draco was brushing his teeth by now. 

Someone with character. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, someone who wasn’t afraid to tell him when he was being an insufferable bastard. 

Draco flossed. 

And he was an insufferable bastard sometimes, oh how insufferable he had been all those years in school, the hissed insults and the suspicion (sure he had been right but still) and the relentless plotting against him. Draco had always wondered where Potter took the time to be so very annoying while still playing Quidditch and (almost regularly) attending classes. Draco hopped into bed. His cat was already curled up beside his pillow. It must have been exhausting. Draco yawned. Tiring. He fell asleep.

He woke up late the next morning and cursed silently while brushing his teeth. He had no time for the morning newspaper, barely time for a strong cup of tea before jumping out of the door and walking towards the shop. Draco was very relieved finding Garrick in his usual grumpy mood when he walked into the store. No big day today, he thought, how very pleasant, he could just lean back and enjoy the ride.

He made a pot of tea and organised the quills inside his drawers and nothing was out of place and everything was good when the bell above the door chimed for a new customer. Draco looked up and flinched.

“What are you doing here?”, Draco asked bewildered.

Potter ran his hands through his hair and looked around: “I reckon I need a care kit”, he said then: “For my wand”.

“I didn’t think it was for your pony, Potter”, Draco deadpanned.

Potters lips parted into a grin. He had dimples on his cheeks. Draco hadn’t noticed them before since they were almost lost between his dark freckles. Why had he noticed them now? Because the light was different, he thought, of course, the light inside the storefront was completely different to the light inside the castle.

“I put one into your bag yesterday”, Draco shook his head in confusion.

And at that Potter blushed. He fucking blushed. A rosy tint spread from the bridge of his nose outward over his cheeks and up his temples and Draco was pretty sure he was going to die from the sight of it.

“Must’ve lost it”, Potter mumbled and put his hands into his pant pockets sternly avoiding Dracos face.

Did that mean…was Potter lying to see him again? Dracos heart squeezed tight and made him a bit dizzy. No that couldn’t be it. Maybe Draco had forgotten to put it in? But he was sure he hadn’t, so maybe Potter did lose it already? He was known do be rather unorganised, bordering on negligence in some instances, so maybe he had lost his kit and was embarrassed to admit to it in front of Draco, someone who had his life together and was a functioning adult man.

Dracos lips quivered: “They are quite small”, he reassured the man in front of him and tried hard to keep his lips from twitching: “I’ll make sure to get you the deluxe kit, those tend to disappear less frequently”.

“Yes, yes”, Potter said and took a couple of steps toward the counter: “It’s the darndest thing, I wanted to take it out this morning, to polish you know, I think it’s very important to take meticulous care of your wand, don’t you? They are rather underrated in general, wands I mean, without them we can’t do much but when I think about how I treated mine back when I was younger, and they’re expensive as well”, he took in a shaky breath: “not that they’re not worth the cost, that’s not what I meant, they’re rather magnificent, Olivanders in particular”, he trailed off: “Don’t you think?”, he said then with a dignified look of finality on his face.

Draco looked at him, he had not been able to follow exactly what Potter was rambling on about and wasn’t prepared to be asked a question about nothing in particular. He blinked.

“Certainly”, he said, as convinced as possible and Potter smiled in agreement. Good thing they had clarified that, Draco thought with a huff.

“Are you quite satisfied?”, Draco asked and rummaged around the small closet underneath the countertop.

Potter looked at him with confusion.

“With your wand I mean”, Draco clarified and blushed a little. Draco didn’t like himself blushing at all, he found it beneath him to so openly show uncertainty in his own words or actions. Also it didn’t suit him, he thought, to look so pink, it was way too alive looking for a proper Malfoy complexion.

“Yes very”, Potter reassured him fervently: “I haven’t used it at work yet but I find it very compliant in everyday tasks. Just an hour ago I managed to get a stain off my trousers without setting them on fire which my last one tended to do.”

Draco raised his eyebrows but said nothing further about the matter, instead piling elixir after elixir into an already aching trunk full of wand care products.

“Nice day today”, Potter said now: “Do you have any plans or are you stuck working here the whole day?”.

“Yes very nice”, Draco said absentmindedly checking the expiration date on each bottle he chucked into the trunk, most of them had expired a good 35 years ago and he wondered if they would still be good. “A bit too hot for my liking, so I’ll hide myself inside the store”.

“Oh yes, very hot indeed”, Potter rushed and threw an alarmed glance towards the burning sun.

It was silent for a good minute and Draco felt Potters eyes staring holes into his back.

“I’m going to need your help carrying that to my flat”, Potter said then and flattened his hair while gesturing towards the huge wooden trunk overflowing with potions: “I’ll buy you lunch in exchange”.

Draco looked at him with bewilderment: “Just levitate it”, he said and pressed the trunk closed with a silent groan.

Potters eyes grew wide and he blushed again. What was it with the blushing today, it seemed everyone just blushed away happily at the mere thought of words.

“Yes, of course”, Potter stammered: “No need for heavy lifting here”, he chuckled shrilly.

Draco looked at him and couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something important here.

“How much do I owe you”, Potter asked and wiped his forehead, it was quite warm in the store.

“It’s on the house”, he said and smiled proudly. This was a nice gesture, sure Potter would realise it.

“Oh thanks”, Potter said and took out his wand, shrinking the trunk down to be no bigger than a shoebox and levitating it to his side. Potter didn’t look thankful at all though and Draco realised a bit sourly how much it bothered him. He was doing something nice, Potter had to know he was doing something nice.

But before Draco could casually mention the normal price or how Garrick always charged every customer for everything Potter had whispered a faint good bye and hurried out of the store as if the Dark Lord himself had been chasing him and Draco had seen The Dark Lord chase Potter, he was sure he had been slower then.

Draco looked after him in frustration. What was his problem? Draco had been very nice to him, he found and his customer service was always on point. He even gave him free products something that always earned him a smile and a wave from other customers. And now there was Potter who had come in possibly faking his need for appliances just to see Draco in all his working glory and couldn’t wait to get out again. He stood there confusedly fuming for a good three minutes until it slowly dawned on him that maybe he would do good being frustrated with himself rather than the embarrassed man hurrying down the alley as fast as human feet would carry him.

Potter had wanted to go to lunch. With him. And Draco hadn’t just declined, he hadn’t even answered. Draco groaned. There he had been, looking out for subtle clues and not noticing the most obvious one when it hit him in the face. Draco slapped himself. He had to clarify his intentions when Potter came in next. Or rather apologise and deal with the unpleasantries like a grown man.

Draco had a speech when he opened the shop the following day. Explaining his lack of manners sufficiently but without sounding too eager to go on said lunch meeting (date) after all. But Potter didn’t come in.

Potter didn’t come in the following day either. 

On the third day Draco thoroughly regretted the amount of products he gave Potter and silently hoped one of the expired potions would blow up and send him in for a complaint. 

But he wasn’t as lucky and on the fourth day he slowly came to terms with the fact that Potter wasn’t about to just appear on his doorstep and ask for more stuff just so Draco could apologise. Also the more days went by without Potter coming in the less convinced he became that Potter had sought out his company in the first place. 

Much more likely was it that Draco had actually forgotten to place the care kit in the bag and Potter had just wanted to be polite upon seeing someone slave away on a hot summer day as it had been. So Draco was okay. Or at least that’s what he told himself every time he looked up at the whistling bell that accompanied a new customer just to look down again, disappointedly when it was just another eleven year old kid in need of a wand for school.

Draco spent his Saturday trying to stop his cat from destroying his furniture and had gone to bed late after reading a new book about wandlore that was both intriguing and dull as can be, the weird mixture that makes you too interested to lay a book down yet too bored to really pay much attention.

So when the shrill alarm went off at 3:37 am on the right side of his head Draco was rather grumpy and reluctant to address it.

It’s Sunday, he thought so why was his alarm going off in the first place? Not many people knew of it, but Draco Malfoy was not a morning person and on the rare occasion his cat would allow it he would spend his weekend mornings contently sleeping until the rays of the noon sun pierced through his eyelids. There were no sunrays now though. 

He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness of his room. This was too early, way too early for his liking but also objectively too early for any human being to be awake. He hesitated, unsure what all of this meant and why it was keeping him from sleeping until his tired brain adjusted a little bit and he realised: This wasn’t his clock, this was the stores alarm. Someone was breaking in.

He leapt to his feet and grabbed his coat, his body doing things before his head could think about them. He put on a scarf and gloves before realising it was the mid of June and the night had come with a gentle, warm breeze. He was out of the door in a matter of seconds and on his way down to the front door he tripped on the stairs and almost ripped his knees into two pieces. He got himself up and only barely realised his bleeding and throbbing knee as he sprinted down towards the the alley.

On a normal day it took him about 7 minutes to reach the shop from his door but tonight it took him less than 2. Draco was sprinting, rather ungraciously as he had to admit but he didn’t care. His robes were fluttering behind him in the airflow, slippers flapping with every step he took and hair in a curly and now slightly sweaty mess. Someone was breaking in. He couldn’t believe it. Never in his life had he thought someone would break into Olivanders shop. He hadn’t thought anyone would dare as the owner had a most peculiar aura about himself and he didn’t put him past booby trapping the whole of the storefront.

When Draco came to the front of the store there was nothing suggesting something was going on behind its dark facade. The street was empty and silent and the sign above the door swayed gently in the warm summer breeze. He walked closer toward the door, it was slightly ajar. A shudder ran down his spine and even though it was warm outside the little white hairs on his arms stood up in anticipation and fear.

The door swung open with a soft shriek as he slowly made his way into the shop. He was careful to avoid the creaky floorboards and put his leather loafered feet down carefully at every step, as to not make any unnecessary noise. He heard something from the workshop. 

Rummaging. 

Someone was looking for something. 

He saw the bright light of a lumos spell wandering over the room and ceiling jerkily as he crept closer. 

He was a mere three meters away from the assailant when it happened. He had placed his hands on top of one of the showcasing tables to not put too much weight on one particularly noisy floorboard when his fingers brushed the wand displayed on a big cushion on top of the table. He barely even touched it but the wand started moving and with one earth shattering bang it fell off the cushion and onto the glass tabletop. Tip and End and Tip again. 

For a millisecond the world stopped and Draco blinked slowly to realise what had happened. The next second everything sped up again and he heard a raspy voice yell out: “Stupor”. A red bolt of light crashed into the closet behind his left ear and Draco jumped to the side to hide behind a table.

“Expelliarmus”, he screamed and pointed his wand in the general direction of his opponent.

“Avada Kedavra”, he heard the man shout and Dracos blood turned cold for a second. 

This man was trying to kill him. 

The green flash of light hit the back of the storefront and shards of glass and burnt paper rilled down onto him as he heard the man scramble to his feet and run out of the shop. He heard a loud bang as the man disapparated.

It took a minute for Draco to realise he was alone once more. He was still crouched behind his desk and breathing heavily. 

What to do now, he wondered as he wiped away blood and glass shards from his forehead. See if Olivander was okay, he thought. He staggered to his feet and went towards the back of the store, first though locking the door in case of any further unwanted guests.

He found the old man sleeping in his bunk just like he had hoped and went about to wake him. That was no easy feat since Garrick Olivander was a quite heavy sleeper and a quite grumpy waker which didn’t make it a very pleasant experience for whomever did the waking up.<

“Garrick”, Draco shouted now after feeble attempts of lot more gentle methods: “The store was broken into”, he screamed into the old mans ears.

Olivander didn’t stir.

Let him sleep then, Draco thought and sighed, he could still see the disaster in the morning.

He turned around and went through the store to the front door. Everything was in shambles where the curses had hit the walls, burnt paper and wand boxes, glass and splinters of wood from the showcasing tables covered the floor. He could see the dust particles dancing through the air in the faint moonlight illuminating the room. Draco, and the assailant for that matter, could count himself lucky that none of the many wands had exploded with the impact of the curse. Wands were rather sensitive about being hit directly by a curse and the explosion would have been enormous. He went outside the front door and looked around. The street was empty and silent again, no sign of the mysterious man that had attacked him. 

There was only one thing left to do, Draco prepared to apparate.


	3. Chapter 3

He landed in front of a big house that looked as if a cliché fairytale witch with wart on the nose and a black cat for company had constructed a big office building. The crooked walls were a meagre yellow tone with a good bit of dirt mixed into it and every window had its own brown shutters. It looked too big for its windows and ugly paint. Draco was still panting when he knocked on the front door.

“Aye”, a sleepy voice came from the other side of the door.

“My name is Draco Malfoy and I need to report a crime”, he said and stood on his heels. This was all taking very long.

“What kind of crime?”, the voice (it was a very tired sounding lady) asked next.

“A break-in”, Draco answered, then added: “And attempted murder”, he said then.

“Oh is that so”, the lady yawned and opened the door: “Department 13 f if you don’t mind”, she gestured towards the dark hallway: “Up the stairs until you’re on the fifth floor then to your left”.

“Right”, Draco said and nodded: “Thank you very much”.

“No worries”, the lady said and sat back down in a big purple sofa chair to continue her knitting.

Draco all but sprinted up the stairs until he reached the fifth floor, panting even more than he had when arriving at the police station in the first place. The hallway up here was dimly light and carpeted with thick floral carpet, the walls were the same yellow colour as the outside of the house. All in all it looked very ugly indeed. Draco turned left and looked at the signs beside the doors flanking the hallway on each side. 

13 f, there it was. The door looked just like all the other doors, no sound was coming through it and Draco was unsure for a moment whether the witch downstairs had forgotten to tell him everyone had already gone home. But he had to try at least and if no one was there he was going to shout and complain as long as it took to get someone.  
He opened the door after a stern nock and went inside.

The room was dark, only one lamp was burning inside and barely illuminated two figures crouched over their respective desks.  
One of the figures was very obviously sleeping, one could see it in the way his nose was smushed against the back of his hand and the quite audible snoring coming from the right hand side of the room. The other persons face was illuminated by a Gameboy. Draco only knew it was a Gameboy because when he had been 8 he had seen Arthur Blyly take one form a muggle boy in the village. Draco had foolishly asked for one as a gift for his following birthday, which his father obviously and for good reason refused and Draco never spoke of it again. 

That’s how he came to know that a Gameboy was illuminating this particular face. And what a face it was.

“Malfoy?”, Potter asked bewildered and threw his Gameboy on the table: “What are you doing here?”.

Draco was still panting and suddenly very aware of his attire, his knee was bleeding through his pyjama leg, his head probably beat red from the excitement and his curls flatted with sweat (also from the excitement, it was a lot).

“A crime”, he said and breathed in heavily. He was very astonished that the other guy hadn’t woken up yet, between his panting and Potters earsplitting confusion it was quite loud inside the small office.

“Did you commit one?”, Potter said with just enough seriousness to be offending.

“No”, Draco said sternly and walked towards a semi free chair in front of Potter: “It was committed on me”, he paused: “to me”, he paused again: “Upon me if you so please”.

Potter hurried to gather the files and leftovers from the chair and Draco plummeted down onto it rather ungraciously.

“What happened”, Potter asked, his face now stern and alert, someone had switched on his professionalism.

“Someone broke into Olivanders”, Draco said and Potter made a note on his notepad: “I went to go confront, or rather detain the person when to my own shame he saw me coming and attacked me. I fought back, of course but the second curse was Avada Kedavra which I took as my cue to relent. He fled and I am here to report the incident”, he ended heavily.

“Are you sure?”, Potter asked while still writing.

“Am I sure of what, now?”, Draco asked confusedly.

“The second curse, are you sure it was the killing curse?”.

Draco was now very much offended: “What do you mean, am I sure? In case you forgot, Potter, I’ve seen the curse used often enough, yes I’m sure. I heard him say the words and I saw the curse hit the wall behind me, he was trying to kill me”, Draco breathed angrily. Did Potter think him a fool?

“That is serious matter indeed”, Potter murmured and looked worriedly at Draco: “Are you alright?”, he asked then.

Draco was taken aback a little, though he didn’t know why exactly until he realised that no one had ever asked him that question before.

“I think so, yes”, he said: “My ego is, I have to admit, more wounded than I am”.

“I’ll call for a Mediwizard anyway, you’re a bit too bloody for my liking”, he said and folded a piece of his notes into a paper airplane and sent it through the open window: “They’ll be here in no time and until then you can tell me exactly what happened”.

And that he did.

He was just telling Potter about the limp the assailant had been walking with when two bored looking Mediwizards came into the office without knocking.

“Who’s the patient?”, one asked but immediately seemed to focus in on the unconscious person lying over the desk when Potter spoke.

“This one”, he said and signed towards Draco.

The man made a surprised little Uh sound and came over.

“Did the curse hit you in the knee?”, Potter asked and flinched a little as the Mediwizard cut open Dracos Pyjama leg to reveal his blood encrusted skin.

“No”, Draco hesitated, this wasn’t a particularly brave injury: “I fell down my stairs when I rushed out to confront him”, he murmured and looked down.

Potter laughed.

“This is no funny business”, Draco replied dignifiedly: “I could have died tonight”.

“But you didn’t”, Potter replied and watched the Mediwizard as he tried removing the fabric from Dracos skin: “Which is almost a shame because then you wouldn’t have been my case and I could have played Legend of Zelda in peace”.

“Well I am very sorry”, Draco replied, sarcasm dripping from his lips: “That my existence is such a burden on you”, he was jumping his leg up and down and the Mediwizards head was bobbing along with it: “Next time I’ll remember to die”.

“Thank you”, Potter said and smirked: “That’s quite considerate.”

“Are you almost done?”, he asked the healers then. One was still trying to fix the knee, the other had addressed Dracos head and Draco could see small shards of glass flying into the tip of the mans wand. 

“Yes almost”, the man said and rolled his eyes.

“So what do we do now?”, Draco asked eagerly and looked at Potter, he had now completely given up hope the other policeman would ever wake up and contribute to the investigation.

“What do you mean?”, Potter asked and raised an eyebrow: “We”, he emphasized the word and motioned between the two of them: “Aren’t doing anything”, he motioned to the unconscious body across from him: “We”, again he emphasized the word: “Are going to investigate”.

“There must be something I can do”, Draco said, outraged by the lack of his involvement in Potters plan.

“You almost died tonight”, Potter said and looked very happy indeed: “You did enough for one day”.

Draco wanted to insist but in that moment the Mediwizards in front of him snapped their wands one last time and stood up from their crouching position: “We’re done”, the taller one said: “Take a sip of this every morning and night until it’s empty”, he handed Draco a bottle of potion. And without another word they had packed their bags and went out the door.

“Very well”, Potter said and put his wand into his pocket: “Then let’s go and look at the crime scene”, he stood up, crumpled up a thick piece of paper and threw it against the sleeping mans head.

They apparated right in front of the store, the loud bang announcing their arrival cut through the quiet summer night.  
The shop was as he had left it, no light was shining through the locked door, no noise came through the high windows.  
“In here”, Draco said and pointed to the shop. Potter and his partner were looking down the dark alley, the partner yawning loudly as he scoped out his surroundings, Potter seeming alert to any possible dangers lurking in the shadowy distance.

Draco took out his wand and unlocked the door again, he had to force himself to remember that he didn’t have to be quiet this time and instead yanked to door open quite indelicately.  
“I surprised him in the workshop”, he said and led the two police men into the store.

“The damage is quite severe, isn’t it?”, Potter said and looked around the dirt covered floor.

“It looks bad, but we’ll know more after we clean up”, Draco explained: “It sounded like he had been rummaging around in here”, he signed towards the workshop: “I think he was looking for something”.

“What’s missing?”, Potter asked as his partner excused himself for the search of the outside perimeter.

“I don’t know”, Draco admitted: ”I went straight to you”.

“Well, take a look now then”, Potter said and wandered around the rubble: “And tell me of anything that’s out of place”.

“There’s a lot out of place here Potter”, Draco said dryly, he was quite poignantly looking at a piece of pillow on top of the chandelier: “Where should I begin?”.

“Start in the workshop”, Potter sighed but said nothing more.

So start in the workshop Draco did.   
He waded through the rubble towards the workshop. It was a small room with a wooden workbench the size of a queen sized bed in the middle, there was a carving station with chisels and gouges and knifes and something that looked like a weaving loom for the preparation and processing of different wand cores.   
Most of those were stored inside glasses and barrels and pouches and phials and chests inside a huge, dark wooden, over 3 meters high shelf taking over the whole back wall of the room.   
Draco liked the workshop, it had taken over two years before he had been allowed inside without supervision and some months more until the old master had deemed him worthy to try his expertise on creating his own wand.   
The first one had not been great, Draco had to admit, it had been wonky and a bit too bad tempered to sell, so had his second and third wand. But his fourth had been okay, great for experienced wizards who didn’t shy away from a challenge. The wands he made today were spectacular. At least Draco thought so, Garrick was almost satisfied with his results. 

Dracos priorities were not aligned with those of the wand master, he was all about searching for new cores, new combinations in wood and length, new processes of melting the core into the wood, while Olivander in his old stubbornness was quite satisfied with the way things were done already and didn’t understand nor condone Dracos tireless search for innovation.  
Draco looked around the room, half the shelves contents were thrown on the ground or discarded on the workbench and he didn’t know where to begin his search. So he started somewhere between the chisel and the unicorn hairs.

“I know what’s missing”, Draco yelled into the darkness behind him half an hour later.

“And what is it?”, Potter shouted back and climbed over the debris towards the lit workshop.

“We’re missing a couple of tools, several knives and gouges, our whole inventory of thestral hair and a bit of wood”, Draco listed.

“What kind of wood?”, Potter asked, he looked worried all of a sudden.

“Elder wood”.

“Then we have a problem”, Potter murmured and stroked his chin.

“Why is that exactly?”, Draco asked unsure, the Thestral hair was expensive, yes and quite hard to come by without the right connections but it was nothing they couldn’t replace in a month or two.

“Because someone”, Potter sighed and looked back towards the door: “Is trying to fix the Elder wand”.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco inhaled sharply: “How do you know?”.

“I have sources”, Potter sighed: “And I’ve had my suspicions for a while now”, he put his hand through his unruly hair.

“But maybe it’s not so bad”, Draco insisted: “Maybe it’s just some kid wanting to experiment?”.

“And hit you with a killing curse?”, Potter asked: “No, this is a dark wizard yearning for power, Malfoy, I know it”.

“Then you’re in great danger”, Draco hurried: “You’re the last master of the Elder wand, whoever fixes it needs to kill you before they can use it themselves”.

“Oh I know”, and to Dracos big astonishment Potter chuckled.

“What is so funny about that?”, he asked the grinning man.

“Well look at you all worried”, Potter said and chuckled a bit more.

Draco just stared at him. Potter had lost his mind, there was no way around it, sometime between the great battle and now the Boy who lived had lost his marbles and Draco was the first to notice. How sad, he thought, just a couple of days ago Draco had been almost proud of Potters functionality in society, but he had been wrong.

“Don’t you see the hilarity in this?”, Potter asked and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye: “Of course someone wants to kill me, it has been six long years without mortal danger, I should have known it wouldn’t last”.

“Well good on you for not panicking, I presume”, Draco said and raised his eyebrow: “Anyway, MysteryMan will take his time to kill you only after he’s fixed the wand and even with our supplies fixing it wont be an easy feat”, he tried to bring back some reason into this conversation: “And as I’m sure everybody knows by now you are particularly hard to kill”.

“That I am”, Potter smiled.

“Much like a cockroach”, Draco continued: “Or a tick”.

“Hey”, Potter exclaimed still chuckling.

“So what do we do now?”, Draco asked and looked at Potter expectantly.

“We”, again he emphasised the word: “Aren’t doing anything, Malfoy”, he had stopped chuckling now: “I’m going to hunt down whoever it is and end this before it even starts”.

“I could help though”, Draco insisted.

“No you can’t”, Potter said sternly: “You have a shop to tidy up, I have bad guys to catch”.

“But”, Draco started but Potter interrupted him: “I will escort you home and will keep in further contact if we have any more questions”. And that was the end of it. Draco was offended but what was the use in arguing? Potter had been stubborn from the moment he came into this world and Draco had better things to do anyways. If Potter didn’t want his help, he sure wouldn’t force it on him, his loss. Draco would have been big help, that was for sure, Draco thought himself quite helpful indeed.

For a moment Draco considered trying to wake Garrick again but he decided against it, there was nothing that could stir the old man and as long as Draco was in early the next day to warn his boss there was no use in waking him now. Old people needed their sleep, Draco was sure it wouldn’t be healthy, for either Garrick nor Draco himself to attempt another waking, after all what if it worked and Draco had to face the old man. Garrick was quite uncomfortable (evil) if one woke him up and Draco was not prepared to face any more curses shot his way today, no thank you very much.

They walked down the empty street towards his flat, the breeze rifled through Potters hair and made Dracos cut up pyjama leg billow in the night.

“Why do you work this case?”, Draco asked: “I thought you were such a big shot you wouldn’t even move for anything below an outright murder, or maybe a kidnapping”  
.  
Potter blushed a little at that and it made his freckles stand out from his pale face: “I’m working towards entering the task force later this year, but I had to work myself up like every new guy straight out of the apprenticeship”, he sighed: “I don’t get as much special treatment as you may think I do, you know”.

“There’s a statue of you in the Ministry”, Draco deadpanned: “And that stupid portrait of you and”, he hesitated for a second: “Dumbledore I have to look at every time I want to withdraw money”.

“I mean I did defeat Voldemort”, Potter said: “It has to come with some perks”, he grinned: “But I hate the statue”, he admitted and waved his hands around wildly while describing: “I look like I’m fifty and that grin”, he paused: “I look just as evil as Voldemort on that statue, I’ve seen little children cry after they saw that face”, he shook his head: “That’s not right”.

“Well I think it’s a good likeness of you”, Draco said and couldn’t help his upper lip from twitching treacherously: “That’s me”, he said then and signed towards his building.

They were all alone in the Alley. Draco swallowed and looked at Potter.

“So”, he started: “Thank you for your help today.”

“No problem”, Potter answered and bobbed up and down on his toes: “Anytime!”, he paused for a second and his eyes grew wide: “Not that I want you to be attacked again, I hope you’re quite save now, I just meant, that if, you know, you were to be attacked again I’m here to help”, he rambled on and ended abruptly.

“That’s good to know”, Draco replied.

It was silent for a second. Then two. Then three. They were just standing there. Four. Five. Looking at each other with wondering expressions on their faces. Six. Seven. Draco had to say something, it was getting uncomfortable. Eight. Anything really, but he had to stop staring down at the man. Nine. Ten.

“I hope your wand’s good”, it erupted out of him before he could stop it.

Potter looked at him wide eyed, looking quite surprised by the fact somebody had said something.

“Yes”, he hurried along: “It’s quite”, he hesitated: “Good”.

“Good”, Draco said and cleared his throat.

“Yes”, Potter nodded.

Again there was silence. Four. Five. Now it was Potters turn to say something, Draco thought, but Potter didn’t show the slightest inclination to open his mouth. Six. Seven. Potter was still bobbing up and down on his toes, looking at Draco. What was he looking at? Eight. Was there something on Dracos face? Nine. Maybe there was dirt on his face. Ten.

“Okay goodnight”, Draco pressed the words through his lips.

Again Potter seemed to be surprised by words being spoken: “Yes, good night”, he nodded vividly: “It is late”.

“Yes it is”, Draco nodded as well. 

Now they were stood there nodding at each other. After a second Draco turned around and went towards his door, his legs feeling weirdly jello like.

In the reflection of the glass door he could still see Potter standing there (looking at him) as he opened the door and vanished inside. His heart was pounding even before he started up the three flights of stairs and he felt slightly dizzy. This had been a very eventful night after all, with him being attacked, it was normal to feel a little out of sorts under these circumstances.   
Potter had been polite towards him, that was good. He seemed quite professional in his job, that was also positive.

He walked up the last flight of stairs and into his flat. He was just thinking about what had happened to that partner Potter had taken with him, had he vanished, had they just left him there alone at the crime scene, when the curse hit him.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco couldn’t move as the body bind took effect and he plummeted towards the floor with great speed. Someone was in his apartment, he thought, someone was attacking him, again. He collided with the floor with a deafening crunch. A sharp pain shot into his right shoulder and lingered there. His shoulder was broken. 

Draco tried to wriggle but the curse and the pain in his side prohibited him. His heart was beating fast now, what could he do, he was completely defenceless. He heard footsteps coming towards him in the darkness. If he could just get to his wand, he thought, then at least he stood a fighting chance.

“Don’t move”, a familiar voice told him, where had he heard it before? 

Draco wanted to laugh at the request, don’t move, hilarious with a body binding curse on you, utterly hilarious.

The man stood in the darkness, Draco could only make out his silhouette. It was the same man, dark cloak, black hat, heavy leather boots on his feet. 

Speak again, Draco pleaded internally, speak again so I know who you are. But the man remained silent. He pointed his wand towards Draco and Draco flinched his eyes shut in preparation for the next curse. 

There was movement around him and he opened them again. Thick brown rope was slithering around his body like snakes, tying him up. Draco couldn’t breathe, he felt the panic settle in his bones as a cold shudder ran down his body. 

What was happening? What was this man planning with him? He wasn’t out to kill him this time, that seemed certain, if he had he could have done so already, was he here to torture him? Take him?

A loud bang cut through the nightly silence. The door. 

“Expelliarmus”, someone shouted and the mans wand flew through the air. Then a second loud bang and the man was gone.

“Are you alright”, Potter shouted towards Draco and came rushing at his side.

Draco tried to answer, but still couldn’t move.

“Oh right”, Potter said: “Body binding spell?”, he asked not expecting an answer, instead he waved his wand again and Draco could feel the pressure onto his joints releasing.

“Fuck”, he exclaimed.

Potter looked at him with wide eyes.

“Fuck”, he said again and sat up, holding his throbbing shoulder.

“Are you okay?”, Potter asked again and stared at him.

“My shoulder is broken”, Draco said and winced as he tried to move his arm.

“Hold still”, Potter pointed his wand towards his shoulder and with one sickening crack and a flare up of pain he had repaired the break.

“How did you know?”, Draco asked the man in front of him.

“Wild guess”, Potter said and helped him to his feet: “It was too quiet, the whole night”, he sat Draco down on top of a chair: “Did you see his face?”, he asked.

Draco shook his head sadly: “No but I know his voice, I just can’t place it yet”, he said.

“That’s good”, Potter said and went over to grab the assailants wand from the floor: “And we have his wand”, he held it up triumphantly.

“Garrick will know who he is then”, Draco exclaimed and stood up: “Let’s go”.

“Wait, wait”, Potter said and held up a hand: “You’re not going anywhere right now”, he shook his head: “You’ve just been attacked again, who knows what he’ll try next”.

“He didn’t kill me”, Draco murmured: “What could he have wanted with me?”.

“Maybe he figured he could use someone who knows their way around wands”, Potter said and pocketed the wand.

They realized it the exact same moment, their heads shot up and their gaze met each others: “Olivander”, they shouted at the same time and ran towards the door.

The door was unlocked for a second time tonight as they ran towards it. Draco didn’t slow down and ran though it: “Garrick”, he yelled and stormed through the storefront, Potter hot on his heels.

“Get behind me”, Potter shouted behind him but Draco didn’t listen, he had his wand outstretched and ran towards the backdoor leading to Garricks living quarters. The silence was complete inside the store and Draco had a sinking feeling inside his stomach, he knew what they would find.

The bed was empty, blanket and pillow were gone.

“He must have apparated with him”, Potter breathed heavily and looked around the room for nothing in particular.

“Fuck”, said Draco for the third time this night, he wasn’t a big curser usually but under these circumstances he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m sending for backup”, Potter reassured him: “We’re going to find them”, he outstretched his wand: “Expecto Patronum”, he said and a great silver stag erupted out of his wand: “Request backup”, he told the stag: “Code 360 and 368, at risk individual requiring protection, Olivanders shop, now”. The patronus bolted away.

Backup arrived fifteen minutes later, ten stern looking aurors apparated into the shop all at once with one single deafening bang.

“What do we have?”, the tallest one asked Potter immediately.

Potter took less than a minute to tell them exactly what was going on and the auror nodded.

“You’re coming with me”, Potter said to Draco as they headed for the door: “It’s not safe for you to stay in your flat alone”.

“Come with you where?”, Draco asked confusedly.

“Home”, Potter simply said and opened the door for them: “Until we find a better arrangement you’re under my protection”.

Draco stared at him. Home? Potters Home? No this wasn’t right.

“I couldn’t”, Draco started but Potter interrupted him: “I’ve already talked to my supervisor, there’s no use in arguing, you’re coming with me”.

Draco swallowed: “But I have stuff to do”, he said: “And my cat needs me”.

“You have a cat?”, Potter chuckled: “Didn’t take you for a pet guy, but then again a cat suits you, just as proud, just as impolite”.

Now that was offensive, Draco was a lot of things, he could admit to that, but impolite? No no. The Malfoys were nothing if not polite to a threatening degree.  
“Cats make very loyal and smart companions, I’ll have you know, Potter”, he defended himself.

“Sure they do”, Potter sighed: “Then the cat comes as well”, he began walking towards the flat. Draco hurried behind him.

“She’ll be very confused and she gets angry when she’s confused, just so you know”, he explained with a knowing frown.

“I think I can handle a disgruntled feline, Malfoy, I killed Lord Voldemort”, he clarified.

“Sure you did, but he didn’t get sick all over the carpet”.

“Do you want to bring the cat or not?”, Potter asked: “Because you’re not very good at persuading me at the moment”.

“I don’t want to bring her”, he huffed: “I want to stay with her, in my own flat and my own bed and drink my own tea in the morning”, he declared and ruffled through his curls: “The bad guys have what they want, I’m not in danger anymore”.

“You don’t know that and neither do we, maybe he comes back, maybe he wants to eliminate witnesses”.

“Maybe he wants to kill the Minister, I don’t see him sleeping on your couch”, he whined and trotted up the stairs alongside Potter.

It wasn’t an easy feat to persuade Mary Antoinette into her traveling cage but after a lot of cooing and a healthy dose of fish fingers she was stored away safely and contently.

“Apparate?”, Draco asked and took the cage and a bag with some of his belongings.

“Yes”, Potter said and put away the newspaper he had been reading while Draco had rushed through the house chasing Mary Antoinette: “My flat is protected but we can apparate to the store on the corner”.

Potter hesitated for a second then reached out to grab Dracos arm, he flinched.

“Ready?”, Potter asked and Draco realised that he wasn’t, but he nodded and swallowed.

The sensation was as unpleasant as it was quick and he didn’t want to imagine how confused and scared his cat had to be right now. She had never apparated before, obviously. 

He heard a loud bang and looked around. They stood in a small alley behind a sandwich store and breathed in the warm air.

“This is muggle London”, Draco realized immediately and frowned.

“How very observant of you”, Potter said and let go of his arm: “Thought it was safer that way”, he explained: “Also more anonymous”.

They walked out of the alley onto a quaintly lit street with orange streetlights illuminating the night.

“It’s just over there”, Potter said and walked towards an old wooden door.

It creaked as they opened it and Potter went up one flight of marble stairs.

They came to a stop in front of yet another wooden door, a big metal number 3 glinted on the doorframe.

Potter took out his wand and looked around sheepishly for any possible witnesses.

“Alohomora”, he whispered and the lock clicked faintly.

“Be quiet”, Potter whispered and opened the door.

Draco held his breath and nodded. How would it be this flat were Potter lived? He imagined a scruffy bachelor pad with wildly mismatched furniture, cosy and disorganized. What he saw when Potter finally turned on the light was the complete opposite. They walked into a modern and minimalistic entrance hall with a big abstract painting on the far side of the wall. 

The floor was dark wood, polished to reflect the people standing on it. It smelled like cedar and honey and Draco was very confused. Somehow this didn’t fit at all he thought, was his picture of Potter this wrong?

“Harry?”, a female voice rang through the flat.

Draco froze. Now who in the world was that?

“Honey”, Potter shouted back: “You’re still awake?”. Honey? Draco blinked at Potter. Well this was a development he had not anticipated.


	6. Chapter 6

Ginny Weasley looked exactly like she had the last time Draco had seen her, with her flaming hair and porcelain skin, the freckles and the plump and shiny pink lips. She came into the Hall in a silk pyjama and frowned at Potter, then she looked at Draco and stopped dead in her tracks.

“Harry”, she said: “What’s going on?”.

“Nothing”, Harry sighed: “Malfoy will stay with us for the foreseeable future, he is in danger”.

“Can I talk to you in private for a minute?”, Weasley asked and left through the wooden double door.

Draco could hear them, they were trying to whisper but their words were still clearly discernible.

“How could you bring him here?”, the girl whispered furiously.

“I had no choice”, Potter replied in a hiss: “He needs protection”.

“Then put him in jail where he belongs”, she said and Draco stood up straighter. Now that wasn’t quite fair. Draco had been well on his way to jail, it had been Potters testimony at his trial that had spared him from Azkaban. Three years probation was all they put upon him and Draco had felt that it was too little. But he accepted the sentence with as much grace as was possible and had vowed to turn his life around. And he had managed quite well in his own humble opinion.

“He might be dangerous”, Weasley was hissing now and Draco was perfectly offended. He couldn’t think of the last time he might have been dangerous, not even in his darkest days he had the guts to seriously hurt someone, not even when the Dark Lord was looking over his shoulder, demanding blood. So the thought that he might be dangerous, might hurt someone was equally hurtful as it is ridiculous.

“You won’t even know he’s here”, Potter whispered back.

Oh no, Draco thought with a grin, she would know he was here. He would moan and snore and raid her fridge, whatever necessary to make her life just a tiny bit more difficult. It was the only thing he could do in this situation, he would have been a bad Malfoy if he didn’t at least try to be as inconvenient as possible. He looked around the entrance hall and studied the large abstract painting. It was beautiful, it looked like a rainy afternoon in Norway, somewhere far away from the next building, somewhere next to a fjord or by a big lake, somewhere where little people ever made their way to.

“What am I supposed to do with him when you’re at work?”, she hissed.

“I’ll take him with me”, Potter said.

“And what about this weekend?”, she asked.

What about the weekend?

“I’ll talk to Molly beforehand”, Potter sighed: “I’m sure they’ll understand”.

“No they won’t”, she hissed: “There is nothing to understand”.

“Look, honey”, Potter pleaded: “I didn’t have a choice, I’m sorry but we’ll just have to make it work”.

“You could have asked me first”.

“You’re right”, Potter said: “I’m sorry”. Silence.

The door opened again and the Weasley and Potter came back into the hall, she looked angry, red blotches on her pale face, Potter looked tired.

“You can sleep on the couch”, he said and Draco picked up his luggage and his cat to follow him. Weasley huffed and stormed out of the Entrance hall back to her bedroom presumably.  
Draco followed Potter into a big living room with high ceilings and a brick coloured sofa in the middle, there was a fire place but no fire was burning and the big fuzzy carpet had the colour of vanilla cream.

“Your house is very nice”, Draco said and put his luggage down next to the sofa: “How long have you lived here?”.

“Thank you”, Potter said with barely veiled surprise: “We’ve been here for the last three years”.

Draco nodded and knelt down next to Mary Antoinette: “Can I let her out?”, he asked and looked at Potter.

“Sure”, he said and yawned: “Just don’t let her destroy the flat, would you?”.

“I’ll keep an eye out”, Draco said and opened the crate door. Mary Antoinette was very confused, she seemed unsure of what to do next so Draco just left her there, she could get accustomed to her new surrounding at her own pace.

“Let me show you everything”, Potter said and walked towards the door.

Draco nodded and followed him.

Next they walked into a big white kitchen, nice and clean, with a marble workspace and silver appliances.

“Very pretty”, Draco said and fixed his gaze at the coffee machine, apparently a muggle concoction he didn’t quite understand. He was no big coffee drinker, he preferred a strong tea for his caffeine fix in the morning but whenever he had coffee it would come out of a simple French press everyone could handle.

“It’s not much”, Potter mumbled: “But it’s home, you know”.

Yes, Draco knew, his own little place was tiny and full of junk but it was his junk at it was his tiny place, it was home.

“Get yourself a coffee or something from the fridge if you’d like, I don’t mind”, Potter said and waved towards the fridge.

Draco nodded and didn’t trouble himself with explaining that he couldn’t even get a coffee bean out of this machine, let alone freshly brewed coffee.

They walked out of the kitchen and into a narrow hallway, it was dimly light and very cozy looking. 

“There’s the bathroom over there”, Potter said and signed towards a door to their right: “Do whatever you please with it but make sure not to use the shower shortly before half past seven, since that’s the time Ginny leaves for work”.

“Will do”, Draco said and made a mental note to hop into the shower at exactly half past seven: “Anything else I need to know?”, he asked then.

“Not really”, Potter pondered a little: “Don’t use our toothbrush and when you have dirty laundry you may choose to put it in with our wash if you’d rather not use magic for that”.

“Why wouldn’t I want to use magic for that?”, he asked.

“I don’t know”, Potter said a bit embarrassed: “Some people find the spell a bit difficult”, he paused: “So I’ve heard”, he added quickly and looked away.

Draco had to surpress a grin and just nodded.

“We should go to bed now”, Potter said, a pink flush on his cheek.

Draco nodded: “I’m sorry to cause you any inconvenience”, Draco said even though he didn’t ask for this, Potter had insisted he come.

“Don’t worry about it”, Potter said and yawned: “Go use the bathroom, I have to do some paperwork before I go to sleep”.

“Can I help you with anything?”, Draco asked and felt very nice indeed.

“You could shut up and sleep”, Potter said.

“Do you know me as someone who shuts up easily?”, Draco asked with a sad smile.

Potter grinned: “No but I’ve been known to make you, so don’t test me”.

“Alright, alright”, Draco put up his hands in defense: “I’ll brush my teeth and you won’t see me again until tomorrow”.

“That would be wonderful”, Potter nodded and turned around: “Good night”, he said then, a bit awkwardly.

“Good night, Potter”, Draco said and it felt very wrong.

“My name is Harry”, Potter said then and walked away through the Hallway.

Draco stood there, stunned.

“Good night, Harry”, he mumbled but the door had already closed behind the man.

Harry. Had he ever called him that? Had he ever even thought about him like this? So friendly, so respectful, so…fond. No, as far as Draco remembered he’d always been Potter, stinking Potter, meddling Potter, oh-so-good Potter. And that was the way it was supposed to be. They weren’t friends, they were barely friendly when meeting.

Draco got his toothbrush from his luggage, his cat was still sitting inside her cage, looking around warily, meowing confusedly at him as he walked by.

Draco brushed his teeth very haphazardly, he was very tired all of a sudden.

So Potter (Harry) was still with the Weasley girl, how romantic. He huffed and spit out toothpaste. Maybe they were engaged already, it had been long enough, but Draco had not seen an engagement ring on her finger. Maybe she only wore it outside? He made a mental note to investigate in the morning, maybe sneak around the house a little, look at the pictures, rifle though their mail, all the things a good guest should not do.

He closed the bathroom door behind him and went back to the living room. Potter had put a fluffy blanket and a firm pillow on the couch and Draco sighed in relief at the sight of it, that would very much do.

He put on his pyjama and crawled underneath the blanket. He closed his eyes. He felt Mary Antoinette jump onto his legs, then burrow her head underneath the blanket and rolled up beside his hip.

“Night Mary”, he whispered and she purred in response.

Draco smiled. This wasn’t too bad actually. But why? Why was Potter being so nice to him? Not only that but he seemed honestly concerned about his wellbeing, that was a premier. Potter must take his responsibilities very seriously, so seriously he managed to forget their long lasting fiend and treat Draco like an actual human being. But then again hadn’t Potter always been nicer to him than Draco had been to him? Draco swallowed. That was an unpleasant thought. 

Draco hadn’t even thanked Potter for testifying on his behalf. He hated owing people something, hated it with a passion, and now Potter had saved his life (presumably). Great. He had to think about something to repay his debt, something to make them even, it couldn’t go on like this. 

And then they could part ways forever as it was supposed to be, each living their own kind of life, Potter would become head auror (maybe, after all he couldn’t even do his own laundry) and Draco would take over Garricks store after his death (if Garrick ever died, Draco didn’t know how old the man was but somehow he felt like Garrick was too stubborn for death) and it would be peaceful. 

Draco would stay alone, he had long given up on finding someone who could stand him enough to fall in love with him and Potter would have seven children, one more insufferable then the other and he would get a bit chubby as he grew older and balder hopefully.

It had started to rain now, the drops pattered against the high windows and lulled Draco in. Draco closed his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long pause, I'm back on it now!

Draco woke up to a very small, very spikey tongue licking his chin.

“Mary”, he mumbled: “Stop it”.

She stopped and instead started gnawing on his earlobe.

“She’s been looking at you lovingly for the last ten minutes”, Potter said and Dracos eyes snapped open: “I’ve never thought I would see someone looking at you like that, congratulations”.

Draco sat up and put Mary in his lap, he looked up at Potter with his steaming mug of coffee and a broad grin on his face.

“And you thought why not join?”, Draco asked and rubbed his eyes.

“I’ve been staring not half as lovingly, believe me”, Potter took a sip.

“That’s what you say, my heart says differently”, Draco said and put a hand through Marys fur.

Potter chuckled: “Come on”, he said: “I’m making breakfast”.

Draco stood up, little black specks dancing in his vision and followed Potter to the kitchen.

“You want some coffee?”, Potter asked and turned towards him.

“No, tea is fine”, Draco said and almost fell over his cat lovingly chewing his ankle.

“The kettle is over there”, Potter said and waved towards one end of the kitchen.

Draco went over and filled the kettle.

“You have to switch it on”, Potter said and rolled his eyes.

“What do you mean?”, Draco asked and Potter came over.

He leaned across Draco and pressed a little button, Draco held his breath. Potter smelled nice, like lavender and lemon, his hair was slightly damp from the shower.

“Why don’t you just use your magic?”, Draco asked and shuffled a bit away from the man.

“We have muggle friends who come over from time to time”, Potter shrugged: “It’s good to keep up appearances”.

“Muggle friends?”, Draco asked and raised an eyebrow: “What do you talk about?”.

“Everything”, Potter said: “The weather, politics, movies, books, games. They are very nice people”.

“Huh”, Draco said eloquently.

“They’re not bad, you know”, Potter said: “Muggles”.

“I’m sure they’re lovely”, Draco insisted: “But they’re just so”, he paused: “Different from us”.

“You should try it sometime”, Potter said and sipped on his coffee: “It would do you some good”.

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I run into a Muggle”, Draco said and watched the kettle.

“Tea?”, he asked and Potter went over to a cupboard.

“What would you like?”, he asked: “I’ve got camomile and black tea and chai”, he trailed off.

“Black tea would be marvellous”, Draco said and Potter gave him a teabag.

“What would you like for breakfast?”, he asked and looked around, a bit lost: “Ginny is at work already so I can’t really do anything fancy”.

“Can’t cook, Potter?”, Draco asked with a grin: “Need your wifey to do that?”.

“My name”, he turned around and looked at Draco: “Is Harry”.

Draco swallowed. Right.

“Sure”, he said: “Harry then”. It sounded very wrong and it felt wrong on his lips, like kissing his grandma with tongue. Draco shuddered.

“Thank you”, Pott – Harry said: “I can make Porridge, that’s about it”.

“Porridge sounds fine”, Draco said: “But if you want I can cook something, I’m quite good, not to toot my own horn”.

“Maybe tomorrow”, Harry said and put milk on the stove.

“I could cook you dinner”, Draco said reluctantly: “To say thank you”.

Harry smiled at that, a real smile, pleasant and crinkling around his eyes: “That would be nice, thank you”.

“The Weasley, I mean, Ginny, doesn’t really rejoice about me being here”, Draco said: “I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble”.

“Oh you heard that, did you?”, Harry said and smiled a sad smile: “Don’t worry about it, she will understand”.

It was silent then,- Harry was stirring the porridge and again Draco wondered why he didn’t use magic for it but then again Harry had grown up as a muggle, had spent his holidays around muggles, maybe he was so used to doing everything their way he didn’t think about it anymore. 

Or maybe he was too stupid to use magic. That was very much a possibility.

“You’re not so bad, you know”, Harry said suddenly and Draco looked at him. Harry wasn’t looking at him, he was watching the pot intently, stirring from time to time.

“I can give you about three dozen people on the spot who would disagree with you”, Draco said and he felt a pang in his stomach because it was true, not matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, there would always be those who only heard his name and be filled with hate.

“Fuck them, then”, Harry said sternly.

Draco laughed: “How promiscuous of you”, he said.

Harry chuckled.

“I try”, Draco said then, serious again: “I really do”.

“I know”, Harry said: “You’re doing a good job”.

“I never thanked you”, Draco said and looked at his tea: “For the trial”.

Harry blushed a little: “Don’t”, he said: “I only told the truth, I didn’t do it for you”.

Draco felt himself blushing, embarrassed, of course he hadn’t done it for him, he knew that.

“Thanks for telling the truth then”, he said and took a sip.

“Of course”, Harry said and put a steaming bowl of porridge in front of him: “Now eat”.

Draco took a spoon full, it was sweet and buttery and hot and it tasted so delicious he didn’t even mind burning the roof of his mouth with the next spoon. Then he felt the stare on him and stopped, looking up meeting Harrys eyes.

“What are you looking at?”, he asked, uncomfortable.

“I’ve never seen you eat”, Harry said: “Ever”.

Draco huffed: “That can’t be true, what about Hogwarts? We practically lived together for seven years”.

“No I don’t think so”, Harry said, contemplating.

“I wonder how that can be, since you were watching me 24/7”, Draco said and raised his eyebrows.

And at that Harry blushed profusely, it started at the tip of his nose and spread out toward his temples. It looked adorable.

“I did not”, he defended himself: “And I had good reason”.

“You were borderline obsessive”, Draco said and took another spoonful of porridge: “You were stalking me”.

“I was trying to protect everyone from you”, Harry said and glowered at him: “You were dangerous”.

“No I was not”, Draco laughed: “Sure, I wanted to be, I wanted to be all kinds of things”.

“Well”, Harry said, smiling a little: “It was good of me to keep an eye on you or else I couldn’t have testified on your behalf”.

“It’s nice, actually”, Draco grinned: “It feels like the good old times, we’re both in danger and you’re watching me while I’m sleeping, I feel at home already”.

Harry laughed at that: “We should punch each other a bit more, then it would be really authentic”.

“I don’t punch, I duel”, Draco said proudly.

“Oh too muggle for you, is it?”, Harry asked.

“No not at all”, Draco said indignantly: “But I can win a duel, have you looked at my biceps?”.

“You wouldn’t win against me”, Harry said confidently.

“You forget that the Dark Lord personally taught me”, Draco said silently: “I know my way around some nasty curses”.

“You forget that I killed the Dark Lord”, Harry said: “Your nasty curses are nothing against me”.

“What are you going to do?”, Draco snickered: “Expelliarmus me to death?”.

Harry looked offended: “Well it worked before, I’ll have you know”.

“You were lucky”, Draco said and Harry gasped in mock offence. 

They ate their breakfast in pleasurable silence then, Harry got distracted by Mary Antointette who made it her mission to steal some of his porridge and Harry laughed happily while fighting her off.

Draco went to brush his teeth and take a quick shower. Then he went over to his luggage and put on a pair of black dress pants and his grey cashmere sweater.

“You ready?”, Harry yelled from what Draco presumed was the master bedroom.

“Ready for what?”, Draco asked and went over into the hallway.

Harry was changing, he saw it immediately through the door that was slightly ajar. He was wearing blue jeans and he was barefoot, he had just taken off his Pyjama top and his upper body was naked. He looked tan and wiry and muscular and his skin shifted with every movement.

Draco turned around with a blush and went silently into the kitchen.

“Work, of course”, Harry said and pulled a button down over his head as he walked into the kitchen. Draco could see his firm stomach where the shirt was not pulled down all the way. Draco looked away with hot cheeks.

“What do you mean, work?”, he asked and played with the tag on his tea bag.

Harry finally fixed his shirt and rolled up his sleeves: “Well I can’t leave you here on your own”, he said: “You’re going to have to come with me”.

“What am I supposed to do all day?”, Draco asked.

“Sulk”, Harry said with a grin: “Throw curses at me, cry, I don’t know”.

“Don’t think I won’t curse you, chosen one”, Draco said with an evil grin.

“Oh, I’m hoping you will, Malfoy”, Harry said with an equally mischievous grin.

“My name”, Draco said slowly: “Is Draco”, he looked up at Harry.

He smiled and nodded: “Alright then, Draco”, he emphasised his name: “We got work to do”.

“Will you let me help?”, Draco asked and put his shoes on: “With your cases”.

“If you behave accordingly, I might consider it”, Harry said and put his wand in his pocket: “But I don’t have high hopes”.

“I won’t call you Sire or your Highness, if that is what you mean”, Draco said sourly.

Harry laughed a clear laugh: “That is not what I meant, but I’m not opposed to it”.

“How should I behave then?”, Draco asked.

“Like a normal human being”, Harry sighed in exasperation: “Just be polite and charming and don’t make my colleagues hate you”.

“What should I care about your colleagues?”, Draco asked.

“You should care if you don’t want someone to spit into your tea”, Harry grinned.

“Your workplace sounds like a kindergarten”, Draco said sulkily.

“They are good people, Draco”, Harry said and put on his coat: “They just aren’t as, how should I say it, refined as you might be”.

“So you think me refined, do you now?”, Draco grinned and Harry blushed a little.

“You’re a brat”, he said simply.

“And you’re a condescending prick, we make quite the team”, Draco said and stood up, he was ready to go.

They apparated from the same spot where they had landed the night previous, behind the sandwich shop and came to a stand in front of the hideous police building with the yellow paint.  
They walked up the several flights of stairs and Draco tried hard to keep his breathing under control since Harry didn’t seem to be faced by the exercise.

“Do you have a sports curriculum here?”, he asked, trying not to pant, sharp pain in his side.

“We have training three times a week, even more when I was still in the academy”, Harry said and shrugged.

That explained a lot. Draco didn’t do sports, ever. It was so very pointless and humiliating, running around for no reason, lifting heavy weights for the simple benefit of swelling up your muscles, sweating, getting red, panting, no it was all very unMalfoy like and Draco wouldn’t have anything to do with it.

“What do you do?”, he asked then.

“Running mostly”, Harry said: “Weight lifting, sit ups, all the good stuff”.

“Do you enjoy it?”, Draco asked.

Harry grinned a little: “Sometimes I don’t mind it, when I’m stressed and need to get rid of the tension, but mostly it’s a chore that has to be done”.

Draco nodded, he understood that. It was like polishing the wand after making it, it didn’t do anything for its magic, it didn’t benefit the wand in any way other than to make it look prettier. Not that Harry looked pretty now, that was not the point at all.

Draco cleared his throat as they went over to the door of 13f and walked into the room. It looked just like it did yesterday, junk everywhere, a truckload of papers and documents strewn about the room, there was a big map on one of the walls showing Diagon Alley and the attached roads leading away from the magical City Centre. Otherwise the room was empty, no sign of the sleeping partner Draco had yet to say a word to.

“Where’s your partner?”, he asked then: “Did we lose him yesterday?”.

“He should be in any minute now”, Harry answered: “He probably went for a coffee yesterday, he has a five month old at home and sleep is hard to come by”.

“A baby?”, Draco asked.

“Of course a baby”, Harry rolled his eyes: “What did you think, that I was talking about a fucking pony?”.

“Sorry”, Draco said a bit sulkily: “Why don’t you have one? A baby I mean”, he asked.

“That’s none of your business”, Harry barked at him and Draco flinched back.

Harrys features relaxed a bit: “Sorry”, he said shortly.

“No worries”, Draco said and sat down on the chair he had occupied yesterday.

“So where do we start?”, he asked: “The investigation”.

Harry sat down at his desk and layed a clear plastic bag in front of him: “We start with the wand”, he said: “See if it is registered with the Ministery”.

“That would be too easy, wouldn’t you say”, Draco said.

“Yes it would, but that’s how we do things here”, Harry said and took the wand out of the bag.

He twirled it around in his fingers and looked at it carefully: “Can you tell me something about it?”, he asked and gave it to Draco.

Draco took it and looked at it for a long while: “It’s Cedar”, he said then: “With unicorn hair for the core, maybe fifteen years old”.

“Do you know who it belongs to?”, Harry asked.

“No”, Draco admitted: “I’m sorry, I’m sure Olivander would know”.

“Well we can’t exactly ask him, can we”, Harry sighed.

The door opened and a tall and skinny man in his early thirties rushed in.

“Morning”, he said shortly and hung his coat at the door.

“Morning”, Draco and Harry said simultaneously, they looked at each other and grinned.

“Where were you yesterday?”, Harry asked.

“I was searching the Alley for clues. Nothing there I’m afraid”, he said and came over.

Harry hurried to introduce them: “Fred Martin this is Draco Malfoy”.

Martin held out his hand and Draco shook it: “It’s a pleasure”, Draco said with a smile and Martin nodded.

“We were just about to go to the Ministery and have the wand checked”, Harry explained and Martin nodded.

“You do that”, he said: “I’ll work on the Freeman case in here”, he sat down at his desk.

Harry nodded and stood up: ”Let me know if you need anything”, he said and walked out the door, Draco hurrying behind him.

“What’s the Freeman case?”, Draco asked as they walked down the stairs.

“That’s confidential, I’m sorry”, Harry said.

“Come on, I won’t tell anyone”, Draco tried, but to no avail, Harry just smirked and continued walking.

They apparated from the front of the building, Harry took Dracos hand and together they landed in front of a public toilet in muggle London.

“Why do we have to use the Toilet Entrance”, Draco whined.

“I thought you’d enjoy this one”, Harry grinned and walked into the small room.

Draco went into the Stall next to him, stepped into the toilet bowl and flushed.

He twirled around himself, getting stretched and contorted and after a few seconds he stood inside a big Entrance Hall of the Ministry.

“Where do we have to go now?”, Draco asked as Harry appeared beside him.

“Let’s ask”, he said simply and went towards a helping desk.

The witch that was sitting there seemed stressed and preoccupied, currently talking to a man in his fifties. Harry and Draco got in line and waited.

“Do you think the wand will be registered?”, Draco asked.

“Probably not, the older ones seldom are, but it’s worth a shot”, Harry answered.

“What’s our next step then?”, Draco asked.

“Then we talk to the people who might now of something going on, we go to Azkaban”, Harry shrugged and Draco gasped.

“Really?”, Draco said: “I’ve never been there”.

“All thanks to me, don’t you forget that”, Harry grinned and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you have informants or something like that?”, Draco asked as they stepped further towards the desk.

“I do actually”, Harry said proudly: “But I will only contact them once other sources of information fail”.

“Hello and welcome to the Ministry, how may I assist you today?”, the witch at the desk asked and Harry put on his brightest smile.

“Hello, my name is Harry Potter, Auror Department 13f and I have a wand that I want to check against the registry”.

The witch behind the desk looked at him, long and hard, staring at the scar on his forehead, then, as if to sort her thoughts she shook her head a little: “Of course”, she said: “That’s the Department for the improper use of magic, second floor”.

Harry nods: “Thank you”, he said and turned around. Draco smiled at the woman who looked after Harry with amazement and turned to follow him.

“I’m not your dog, you know”, he said, trying to keep up the pace of the other man: “You could wait for me”.

“But this way it’s more fun for me”, Harry grinned and only went faster.

They made their way over to the elevators and got in with five more people going up. 

They looked warily at them but stayed silent, until a small man in his fifties turned towards Harry and said: “Great to see you, Mr. Potter”, he held out his hand.

Harry grabbed it and shook it with a smile: “Thank you”, he said.

“I’m Mortimer Creston”, the man said: “I work in the department for improper use of magic”.

“Very nice to meet you, Mr. Creston”, Harry said: “We are just on our way to your department”.

“We?”, Mr. Creston asked incredulously.

“Mr. Malfoy here, and me”, Harry said and Draco tried to sink into the wall behind him.

“Malfoy”, Mr. Creston said: “Interesting”.

Draco nodded and smiled shyly at him but Mr. Creston gave him a look that made the smile die on his face.

“Mr. Malfoy”, Harry said poignantly: “Is helping with an investigation, you see”.

“Is that so”, Mr. Creston said and looked at Draco with unveiled curiosity: “How good of him”.

Draco tried another smile and this time the corners of the mans mouth tilted upwards ever so slightly. Draco let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and stared towards the doors.

“So maybe I can help you”, Mr. Creston said: “What is it you needed?”.

“We were hoping a wand might be registered”, Harry said and showed the man the wand.

The voice of a woman announced that they had arrived at the second story and Harry, Mr. Creston and Draco went out of the elevator.

“Is this the wand?”, Mr. Creston said and Draco had to try hard not to roll his eyes.

“It is indeed”, Harry said with a smile. How could he be so consistently smiling? It sure must hurt his mouth after a while.

“Very interesting”, Mr. Creston said and walked towards a door on their left: “Please come in”, he said and held the door open.

“Thank you”, Harry and Draco said simultaneously, both snickering a little when they realized.

“It’s good you boys are having your fun”, Mr. Creston said and smiled at them. Draco decided to like him, he was nice if a bit simple and he seemed all too eager to forgive him now that he had seen that Potter had done so as well.

“Martha”, he yelled over to a witch around his age who was sitting behind a big wooden table: “Misters Potter and Malfoy are here for the Wand Registry”.

“Potter?”, Martha said without looking up: “Are you having your fun with me again?”.

“No”, Mr. Creston said and went a bit red in the face: “Just look up and see, it’s him”.

Martha rolled her eyes but looked up, apparently Mr. Creston was big on practical jokes and she didn’t expect to see Potter waiting there, still smiling, still smelling so darn good.

“Oh my Lord”, she whispered: “Mr. Potter it is an honour”.

“Very nice to meet you, Martha”, Potter said and shook her hand: “Have you met Mr. Malfoy?”, he asked, trying to introduce them.

“I have not had the pleasure”, Martha said with a grim look on her face, apparently her pleasure was very much at bay.

“Draco Malfoy, Ma’am”, Draco said and held out his hand.

Martha looked at it for a long time, then she sighed and took it, Draco smiled and she blushed a little.

“Oh you should be locked up with a smile like that”, she giggled and Draco felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

“He doesn’t know what effect he can have on people”, Harry said, but he didn’t smile, he was looking at Draco somberly. 

“So what do you boys need?”, Martha asked but Mr. Creston spoke before Harry could answer.

“Martha, I’ve asked them already, don’t be tedious”, he said and Martha turned towards him: “The have a wand here, want it checked against the Registry”.

“Oh I see”, Martha said and smiled, she had a very nice smile, Draco realized, warm and bright and it made her eyes flicker with mischief.

“Then let me see this wand”, she said and turned to Harry once more.

“I have it here”, Mr. Creston sighed and gave her the plastic bag.

“It will only take a few minutes”, Martha said and went back towards her table: “Please have some tea and biscuits while you wait”.

She flicked her wand and a tray with three cups of tea and a truckload of biscuits appeared in front of them.

“Thank you”, Draco said and sat down in front of Mr. Crestons table, Harry doing the same.

“So what is the story behind this wand?”, Mr. Creston asked and Draco was very much ready for Harrys dismissal, that it was an ongoing investigation, that he couldn’t say anything about it but instead he started to talk, mouth full of biscuit crumbs.

“There was a break in at Olivanders”, he said: “I’m sure you read about it in the papers this morning”.

“Indeed I have”, Mr. Creston said a shocked expression on his face: “And you are investigation it?”.

“It’s in the papers?”, Draco asked incredulously.

“Well yes”, Harry said: “Haven’t you read the Daily Prophet?”.

“When would I have done that?”, Draco asked and raised his eyebrows.

“I put a copy on the kitchen table this morning”, Harry defended himself.

“Oh you two boys live together?”, Mr. Creston asked with a grin: “I’m sure that isn’t always smooth sailing”.

“Only temporarily”, Harry said quickly, but Martha had already chimed in: “Oh we don’t judge, darling, Mortimer and his husband have been together for twentyseven years now”.

“Congratulations”, Draco shook his hand and Mr. Creston smiled at him.

Harry hurried along: “It is only for the duration of this investigation”, he explained: “The Prophet neglected to mention that Mr. Malfoys life had been put in jeopardy twice that evening when he tried to stop the assailant”.

Mr. Creston and Martha gasped and Draco felt very much like the hero he had never been.

“I’ve gotten out of it with barely a scratch”, he said and leaned back in his chair coolly.

Harry rolled his eyes: “The assailant didn’t have time to seriously harm my companion”, he explained: “But he did lose his wand in the process”, he signed towards the plastic bag on Marthas desk.

“Did you unarm him?”, Mr. Creston asked Harry with unveiled pride in his voice.

“I did”, Harry said and smiled: “As I’m sure you’ve heard I know my way around the Expelliarmus”.

At that Draco did roll his eyes and Mr. Creston looked at him with shock: “Don’t you roll your eyes at that young man, I’m sure you know what Mr. Potter has done”.

“I meant no disrespect”, Draco said and Mr. Creston looked appeased.

“I’m sure my companion knows the service this spell has done to our nation”, Harry said with a grin at Draco.

“Of course”, Draco hurried.

“Very well”, Mr. Creston said turned around towards Martha: “Martha have you come up with something yet?”.

Martha sighed: “So far it does not look good, Mr. Potter”, she said: “But give me two more minutes and I can be sure”.

“Of course”, Harry said: “We’re not in a hurry”.

“And how is your position as an Auror suiting you?”, Mr. Creston asked and turned towards Harry again.

“Oh very well indeed”, Harry said and smiled: “It has come with a lot of exciting opportunities”

“I’m sure it has”, Mr. Creston smiled: “And what do you do, Mr. Malfoy”, he held out a biscuit at Draco and he took it, nibbling on it for a second.

“I’m a wandmaker under Olivander, Sir”, he said and bit into the cracker.

“Oh how nice”, Mr. Creston exclaimed: “And is it how you imagined it to be?”.

“Yes very much so”, Draco said struggling against the dry crumbs in his mouth: “Mr. Olivander is a very patient teacher”. That was very much a lie, since Garrick never let a chance pass where he might be justified in screaming at his employee but Draco felt it was no use mentioning that.

“Mr. Olivander was kidnapped by our assailant”, Harry said then quietly.

“Oh my dear Lord”, Martha gasped and put a hand against her chest: “Is he alright?”.

“We don’t know at this point in time, Ma’am”, Harry said and shook his head.

“So this is what I’ve come up with”, Martha said and held up a piece of paper: “It’s not much but it might give you a place to start”.

“What is it?”, Harry asked and leaned forward.

“So we don’t have a name registered to the wand”, she said and came over to them: “But we do have an incident report where the wand was left behind after the attack on two muggle teenagers. The wand was later stolen from evidence Lockup”.

“That’s great”, Harry said: “Who were the people associated?”.

“Only one wizard was cited as a witness”, she paused and looked at Draco sadly: “His name was Lucious Malfoy”.


	8. Chapter 8

His father. Of course, Draco should have seen it coming, whenever dark wizards lurked around the surface his father was not far.

“May I see the witness statement?”, Harry asked and Martha nodded and gave him the paper.

“What does it say?”, Draco asked coldly.

“He states he was merely walking by when he saw four men attack the teenagers”, Harry told him and Draco huffed: “When the Aurors came the attackers disapparated leaving only Lucious behind, the teenagers were promptly obliviated and sent on their way”.

“He was just walking by?”, Draco asked.

“That’s what it says”, Harry said and looked at him: “He was not charged with anything”.

“Of course he wasn’t”, Draco said and shook his head.

“Thank you Martha, Mr. Creston”, Harry rose from his chair and nodded at them both: “It was a pleasure”.

“The pleasure was ours”, Martha said and gave Draco another three biscuits for the road.

“Bye, bye now”, Draco said and took the biscuits.

“Bye”, Martha and Mr. Creston said then Draco followed Harry out of the door.

“Why does it not surprise me that your father is slap dap in the middle of this?”, Harry hissed and walked towards the elevators.

“You don’t know that”, Draco said, he wanted to keep going, wanted to defend his father but the words just wouldn’t come.

“We need to talk to him”, Harry said: “As soon as possible”.

“You still want me to come with you?”, Draco asked.

“Of course”, Harry said: “You’re not your father, aren’t you?”

“Sure but I just thought”, again words failed him.

Harry stopped abruptly and turned towards Draco: “Listen, if I thought you had anything to do with this I would not let you come, but you might be my best chance to get Lucious to open up, you’re coming with me, or is that a problem?”.

“No problem”, Draco said and shoved another cookie into his mouth: “Want one?”, he asked Harry but he only grunted, disgusted.

To visit Lucious was not an easy feat. He was incarcerated, in contrast to his son, Lucious had not been lucky enough to get away with probation since he did not have the Holy Potter speak in his defence. 

So they had to go to Azkaban and to go there was a wild ride on its own, first they had to apparate to the coast and then get into a stingy sailboat that brought them more or less safely to the island where the prison was located.

The spray was dripping down Dracos cheeks where he stood in the front of the boat, looking out at the waves crashing against each other in the high wind.

“I hope you practiced your patronus”, Harry said and stood beside him.

Draco huffed: “There are no more Dementors in Azkaban”, he said confidently but internally he was shivering. He had never managed to produce a corporeal patronus, ever, not even in the safety of his own home or the darkness of Garricks workshop where he had spent more than one evening trying desperately to make something come from the thin silver fog that sprayed out of his wand. It didn’t work. Draco was either too stupid or not talented enough for a patronus and Harry was never to find out and if it was the death of him.

“Oh no you heard about that?”, Harry asked, disgruntled.

“Yes, I heard”, Draco said and made warm air flow out of his wand to warm up his icy nose.

“But a patronus won’t hurt”, Harry said: “It’s still pretty gloomy, you know”.

“So I’ve heard as well”, Draco said and felt the warm breeze in his face, he turned his wand around to face Harry. 

He looked surprised at first, then delighted: “Thank you”, he said and closed his eyes in the warm breeze: “How very thoughtful of you”.

Draco blushed a little but he kept the wand where it was and watched Harrys hair ruffle in the breeze, he smelt him too, so young and fresh and sweet.

“Have you given much thought on how to approach my father?”, he asked then and pocketed his wand again.

“I have not”, Harry said and ran a hand through his hair: “He is quite peculiar, your father, I know not what to make of him”.

“He is very proud”, Draco said: “At least when I saw him last, you will do good to appeal to his pride”.

“But how shall I do that?”, Harry asked as the ship plunged down a wave.

“I do not know, indeed”, Draco said and shook his head: “But maybe you are right, maybe he will talk to me, though I doubt it”.

“Why would that be?”, Harry asked.

“I have seen him last more than four years ago”, Draco said sadly: “I have not kept in contact with him, he seemed like the wrong crowd to keep around me after my probation started”.

“You have done well in deciding that way, I am sure”, Harry said with a stern look: “How long has your father yet to sit out?”.

“He was sentenced to five years incarceration”, Draco said: “He has one and a half left now”.

“I understand they took away his fortune once his illegal dealings became known?”, Harry half asked, half ascertained.

“Yes indeed”, Draco said: “They decided it was better to take away his money and started a foundation with it, it is in favour of houselves and magical creatures, it is sure to irk my father to no end”, he laughed.

Harry chuckled: “But how have you survived without your family fortune?”, he asked.

“I did what everybody would do and got myself a job”, Draco said proudly: “I struggled for a few months, living in cheap muggle motel rooms until I had enough money to rent the flat I currently live in”.

“How good of you”, Harry said and Draco heard something like pride in his voice, he blushed again and hoped Harry would credit it to the chilly wind on the sea.

“It has not been easy”, Draco admitted: “But I make do”.

“You certainly do”, Harry said.

The island came into few a couple hundred meters in front of them, large and imposing, dark and worn by the weather.

They made their way towards it slowly, wrecked by the waves and the wind but they landed safely on the shore and hopped out of the boat.

“Hello fellas”, a young woman said. She was wearing a thick yellow raincoat and held a lantern in front of her, trying to illuminate the fog.

“Hello”, Draco and Harry said and walked over to her.

“You’re here to see one of our inmates, I am sure”, she said and walked in front of them up a narrow path towards the high walls.

“We are here to see Lucious Malfoy”, Harry said and nodded, coat wrapped around him against the rain.

“He will be happy to have a visitor”, the woman said and opened a heavy steel door. They walked inside, it was barely any warmer, but it was dry and the loud patter of the rain was muted by the thick walls.

“I understand my mother visits him once a week”, Draco said.

“Your mother?”, the woman asked and shrugged out of her coat.

“Narcissa Malfoy”, Draco explained.

“Oh so you are Draco then?”, the woman asked and looked at him for the first time, she smiled a huge smile: “It’s so good to see you again”.

“I’m sorry”, Draco said uneasy: “Do I know you?”.

“Don’t recognise me, do you?”, the woman said, smile wavering a little.

“I’m sorry, no”, Draco admitted and studied her face. She was pretty, in a peculiar sort of way, her eyes were big and far apart, her mouth plump but devoid of colour.

“I’m Claire”, she said and smiled: “Claire Zabini”.

“Oh of course”, Draco exclaimed and laughed: “Claire, you were two years below me in Hogwarts, weren’t you”.

“Indeed I was”, Claire said and smiled.

“So you’re a warden now”, Draco said and looked around: “How do you like it?”.

“The commute is a bit tedious, but other than that I enjoy the work, it’s very quiet mostly”, she said, then she looked at Harry: “By my word, you’re Harry Potter”, she breathed.

“Nice to meet you, Claire”, Harry said and shook her hand.

“Likewise”, she said and smiled: “I never thought I would see the both of you in the same room again”, she said and looked between them.

“Unfortunate circumstances force us to work together”, Harry explained: “We have to make do”.

“I see”, she said and nodded: “I am happy to see it”.

“Why is that?”, Draco asked.

“Well if Potter and Malfoy can get along there is hope for all of us, isn’t there?”, she laughed: “There is the chance that my family will someday be forgiven too”.

Draco nodded, the Zabinis had played only a small part in the Dark Lords rising but the wizarding world had been fierce and harsh with their judgement.

“I am sure”, Draco said and smiled at her.

“Well”, she sighed: “Let me bring you to our prisoner”, she turned around and went towards a second door: “Follow me”.

They walked out the door into a narrow, dark hallway illuminated by torches that gave little light but also little warmth which Draco appreciated, he was frozen to the core. They walked up several flights of slippery stairs until they came to a stop inside yet another narrow hallway.

“Malfoy”, Claire yelled out: “You have visitors”.

They could hear muffled shuffling from inside the cell as Dracos father made himself ready to receive visitors.

“I will have to confiscate your wands for the time being”, Claire said and held out her hand.

Reluctantly the two separated from their wands and gave them to her. 

“Step away from the door, please”, Claire yelled once more and opened the door with the flick of her wand.

Lucious Malfoy was sitting on his bed, gaunt face excitedly facing the door, he was wearing the grey striped prisoners uniform over his thin body, there was a thick blanket around his shoulders.  
As he perceived his son, his eyes widened.

“You have thirty minutes”, Claire said and closed the door behind them.

“Hello father”, Draco said stiffly and walked towards him.

“Son”, Lucious Malfoy breathed and stood up. He stood there for a couple of moments, unsure of what to do, then he walked over to his son, who was quite surprised by the action and hugged him tightly.

Draco did not know what to do, his father had never hugged him before and even though he was frail, thin and a bit smaller than Draco his grip was strong and unrelenting around his chest.

“Father, what”, he started but grew silent as his father only gripped tighter.

“It’s so good to see you Draco”, Lucious said, muffled into Dracos shoulder: “So good to see you”.

“I am happy to see you, too”, Draco mumbled, unsure what was expected of him.

He loosened his fathers grip and held him an arms length away from him, there were tears swimming in Lucious eyes, his thin mouth an exuberant smile. He didn’t smell good, stale and old but Draco didn’t mind, his eyes were glistening.

“I knew one day you would find your way to my cell”, Lucious said still completely ignoring the other man inside his living quarters: “Every day I’ve waited, four years now, I have waited and I knew one day you would come”, he smiled: “Thank you for coming”.

Draco cleared his throat, properly overwhelmed by this whole display: “Here I am”, he said and scratched his head: “And I’ve come with a friend”, he said.

He could see Potters head jerk in his direction out of the corner of his eye and Draco understood, a friend? Was that really what Harry was? But what else would he be by now? He was no enemy no more, he wasn’t a foe.

Lucious finally let go of Draco and turned towards Harry, still the biggest smile on his face: “Mr. Potter”, he said and walked over to him, hand outstretched: “What an honour to have you visit me in my humble abode”.

Harry blinked a couple of times, then threw an unsure look at Draco, but he only shrugged, he didn’t know what was going on either.

“Mr. Malfoy”, Harry said with a shy smile: “Good to see you in good health”, he said then and Draco admired him for being so nonchalant about this.

“What brings you to me?”, Lucious asked and turned around to sit on his bed again: “Please sit down”, he signed for two chairs opposite him.

“Thank you”, Harry said and sat down.

“Father”, Draco said solemnly: “We have come to ask you about an incident a couple of years ago”, he explained: “It is of utmost importance that you be truthful with us”.

“I see”, his father said and nodded: “I will do my best. But first, may I inquire of how it came to be that the both of you are visiting me together?”.

“Of course”, Harry said: “Your son is object of my investigation, I am sure you’ve heard that I joined the police force a couple of years ago”.

“Yes”, Lucious said: “I’ve read it in the papers”, Harry nodded: “But how come my son is involved in one of your cases?”.

“Draco was attacked”, Harry said and Lucious gasped: “Quite violently and not only once, we have reason to believe the attacker is known to you”.

“Draco”, his father gasped: “Is this true, are you alright?”.

“Yes father”, Draco said, very confusedly: “I am unharmed, it was but a scratch”.

“Thank Merlin for that”, his father shook his head: “How may I help you?”.

Harry smiled at him: “There was an incident about fifteen years back”, he explained: “There was an attack on two muggle teenagers, you were cited as a witness where the wand that attacked your son was left behind, do you remember the incident?”.

Lucious seemed to think for a moment, then he said: “I am not sure, fifteen years you say?”.

“Yes”, Harry said: “It would have been in London, it was July”.

“Yes”, Lucious said: “I think I remember the day, it was particularly hot”.

“Father”, Draco said sourly: “I think we both know that you weren’t merely a witness to the attack”.

Lucious closed his eyes: “No”, he said: “I remember attacking the two kids”.

“Good”, Draco said, pleased his father was telling the truth: “We need you to tell us who else was involved”.

“Of course”, Lucious said and thought about it: “There was Fenrir”, he said: “He was in a very bad mood that day. And Dolohov. And the siblings Carrow”, he hesitated: “That was it, it was the five of us”.

“Five against two”, Draco shook his head: “How could you do that, father?”.

His father looked ashamed, properly ashamed: “I don’t know son”, he whispered: “I was a different man back then”.

“I hope you were”, Draco said.

Harry looked between them: “So Greyback, Dolohov and the Carrows”, he said: “Anyone else who was there?”, he asked.

“No”, Lucious shook his head: “It was just us”.

“All four of them are in Azkaban or dead”, Harry whispered to Draco: “None of them could have attacked you”.

Draco sighed, but he didn’t doubt his father.

“I am sorry that I could not be of greater help to you”, Lucious said, a pained expression on his face.

“You have done everything we asked of you”, Harry assured him: “Don’t pain yourself”.

“It seems you have changed a great deal, father”, Draco said, looking at him.

Lucious smiled: “I have, son, I think I have”.

“Good”, Draco said, managing a small smile: “I am glad to hear it”.

“I was stupid once”, Lucious said: “Stupid and scared and I did not protect you like I aught to have”, he shook his head: “I am sorry for that, son, I am seriously sorry”.

“Thank you”, Draco said. He had not known how desperately he needed to hear that from his father.

“What do you do nowadays?”, Lucious asked and leaned forward.

“I work as a wandmaker”, Draco said proudly and smiled.

“With Olivander?”, Lucious asked and Draco nodded: “Oh how great for you”, he said.

“I enjoy it a lot”, Draco said: “Garrick is very patient with me”.

“Have you heard from your mother recently?”, Lucious asked.

“No”, Draco said: “I have not talked to her in over a year, but I understand she visits you?”.

“She did, yes”, Lucious said: “But she has not been here for these last three weeks and I am worried about her”.

“I’ll make sure to contact her and ask about her wellbeing”, Draco assured his father: “I am sure she was just inconvenienced by something”.

“Yes”, Lucious said: “You do that”.

They were silent then, Harry looking between them with unveiled curiosity and Draco kneeding his palms nervously.

“Well, we better take our leave”, Draco said and stood up.

“So soon?”, Lucious asked and stood up as well: “Pray, stay, son”, he said and took Dracos hand.

Draco looked at his fathers frail hand and had to surpass a shudder: “Why?”, he asked.

“There is so much I don’t know about you”, Lucious said: “So much we have to catch up on”.

“I’ll make sure to visit you in the near future”, Draco said and looked away.

Lucious smiled: “Yes, alright”, he hugged his son again: “See you very soon then”.

“Good bye father”, Draco said and walked over to the door.

“It has been a pleasure”, Harry said and shook Lucious hand.

“Indeed it has”, Lucious said and made a slight bow.

Then Harry knocked on the door and it was opened and the two of them stepped outside.

“Got everything you need?”, Claire asked as they took the steps down to the ground floor.

“Yes”, Harry said and sighed: “As much as was possible”.

Draco didn’t say anything, his whole body was tingling from the hug, he was very much confused.

They set off on the boat mere ten minutes later and were ingulfed in heavy rain once more, Harry conjured two umbrellas and together they stood at the bow of the ship, defying the waves.  
“Your father has changed much since you last saw him, I presume?”, Harry said finally.

“Very much so”, Draco murmured, looking at his hands.

“He is a very pleasant man now, if I do dare say so”, Harry said, smiling.

“But what might have made him change so drastically?”, Draco asked.

“Solitude gives much time for thought”, Harry said: “He might have thought about his dealings prior to his trial and came out dissatisfied with them”.

“But this much of a change of heart”, Draco shook his head: “My father has never hugged me before, never Harry, and now he’s hugged me two times in the span on half an hour. I am in serious worry over his mental state”.

“He seemed just fine to me”, Harry said: “I think he missed you”.

Draco looked at him, Harry was smirking: “What are you grinning at?”, Draco asked.

“Nothing in particular”, Harry said and looked out at the waves: “It’s just”, he stopped: “I am glad, that is all”.

“Glad that my father has gone insane?”, Draco huffed.

“No”, Harry said, serious now: “I’m glad your father has understood what the meaning of a second chance is, and I’m glad he is determined to deserve one”.


End file.
